Lies
by the-slytherin-princess-x
Summary: Engaged to Draco Malfoy, Hermione is living a double life. To all, she is the Lady of the Manor and a doting wife, but her secret life has her spying on her husband for the Ministry of Magic. Hermione finds herself feeling too much for the man she married
1. Chapter 1: An Emergency Meeting

Hermione Granger hurried down the busy hall to the conference room. She didn't want to be late; Hermione Granger was never late, and she didn't intend to start being so now.

It was five years after the downfall of Voldemort, four years since she had graduated from Hogwarts. Hermione Granger was working for the Ministry of Magic, as were most of her friends, as an Auror. She had dreamed of working in the Department for the Regulation and Control of Magical Creatures (still intent on pressing forward with S.P.E.W.), but after a very convincing argument with Harry, she had decided the Aurors did indeed need her.

She had insisted that she finish her secondary training and education before she signed on. Consequently, she was the junior member of the team, having only been a part of it for about four months. At that moment, she was running to an Auror meeting, an emergency meeting. The memo had landed on her desk not two minutes earlier.

She made it to the room and took a seat at the long table. She checked the clock; she was ten minutes early. She looked around at the few people that had arrived already.

"Hey, Harry," Hermione said upon seeing her longtime friend. He looked up from the documents he was reviewing and smiled at her. Of course Harry would be on time, he was the assistant head of the Auror Department.

"Morning, Hermione," Lupin greeted her. Remus was the Deparment leader. He shifted about at the head of the table nervously. He checked his watch and the clock above the door every couple of minutes.

Susan Bones was early as well; she sat staring at the ceiling looking very bored.

"Where's everyone at?" Hermione asked when she grew tired of the clock's monotonous ticking and the quiet shuffle of Harry's pages.

"Tonks, Ron, Neville, and Boot are still in the field, they should be back soon though," Harry said, as he too checked the clock on the wall.

"I saw Mad Eye outside the training room earlier, he's probably still there harassing the recruits," Susan added. "No clue where Michael is though."

Michael Corner. _Probably off flirting with the new receptionist_, Hermione thought to herself with a smirk.

Hermione was fairly certain she knew what the meeting was about.

Recently, Kingsley Shacklebolt had been pushing through various wizarding laws and acts that he hoped would help ease the continued tension between Purebloods and Muggleborns. Most of those were intended to encourage the Pureblood families to allow their children to marry whomever they wanted. No doubt, some of those families would arrange marriages with Muggleborns for the many benefits associated with doing so.

After the war, all of the captured Death Eaters were tried; most were sent to Azkaban for life, some eluded the Ministry all together, and others bargained and bought their freedom. Those who had supported the Dark Lord and those who were pardoned were labeled as War Criminals. This ostracized them from society. They were looked down upon by the entire wizarding world.

As almost all of the Pureblood families were accustomed to being treated with respect, they now found themselves as the new pariahs. No longer were Muggleborns at the bottom of the social ladder. Most were desperate to rid themselves of the label and would go to great lengths to do so. They had found being the outsiders, the ones looked down upon, the victims of prejudice, was not a very pleasant existence.

The lack of reverence was not the only thing that came with the War Criminal charge. It also brought hefty taxes down upon the families it had been bestowed upon. This had even brought about the poverty of some of the wealthier Pureblood families. They may have escaped Azkaban, but they had found equally harsh punishments in their freedom

Ten minutes after the meeting should have begun all but Mad Eye had arrived and were waiting quietly for the meeting to begin. Lupin slowly stood to begin the meeting.

"Well, since only Mad Eye is missing, I'll go ahead and start," he said. "As you all know, Kingsley has been working hard on the new Muggleborn Equal Rights Act and I'm happy to say it has finally been accepted and went into effect this morning."

This received smiles and whoops of joy from all of the Aurors. Lupin smiled and waited on the boys to quiet down, the girls sat waiting patiently.

"Right, well, I'm not sure you all know the full details of the Act as it's quiet lengthy," he coughed lightly, "Hermione would you mind a quick explanation, err… just over the part concerning marriages?"

"Sure," she looked at the faces around her; all were now turned to her eagerly. "A section of the M.E.R.A. pertains to Pureblood and Muggleborn marriages. It states that any Pureblood that marries a Muggleborn witch or wizard will receive significant taxation cuts for the duration of the marriage. This obviously is aimed at the Pureblood-superiority families that were labeled as War Criminals and have since been heavily taxed. This should help them try to associate with Muggleborns and progress wizarding society and relations between all. There are other benefits and there is always room for adjustment. The main idea is to force the Purebloods out of their self-imposed isolation, of sorts."

She paused and took another breath. "Of course, there is a clause stating that any harm befalling the Muggleborn witch or wizard partaking in the union will cause the marriage to be nullified as well as retroactive taxation. Depending on the severity of harm, obviously, the family may be relabeled or labeled as War Criminals or even sent to Azkaban."

"Precisely," Lupin added as she finished. "It obviously isn't everything we've hoped for, but it's a step in the right direction. After all, they will never get over their prejudices if they don't know and associate with Muggleborns. A great deal of those families are suffering from the high taxes that have been imposed upon them and money has always been important to those types of people…" he trailed off sounding disappointed. His eyes flicked to Hermione, and for a moment she thought she saw something there. Pity, remorse, dread, fear, guilt, she couldn't tell. His sad eyes only looked sadder.

"Well, that was only a part of this meeting, and it is not the reason it was an emergency." He looked at her again, only briefly. She was beginning to worry about what was to come.

"Uhm…Well…I…uh…" Remus spluttered ineloquently.

"Just out with it, Remus," Harry said with a chuckle after several moments of the babbling.

"We've been approached by one of those Pureblood families. Well, the Ministry- Kingsley actually- was approached but anyway, they are looking for… immediate arrangements."

Harry's brow creased in concern and he asked the question on everyone's mind, "Who is it?"

"We want to put an Auror in," his eyes were on Hermione again.

It finally hit her. There were only three female Aurors currently: Tonks, who was married; Susan, who was a Pureblood; and Hermione, the only single, Muggleborn witch with the Aurors. She felt her stomach drop to the floor, her jaw sagged open, and her heart skipped a beat as the realization sunk in.

"Who is it, Remus?" she asked quietly, wide eyed.

"Considering who it is and their history," he continued on, ignoring both her and Harry's question, "we want someone on the inside. I _know_ they're up to something. The Death Eaters may not have an official leader anymore but they haven't disbanded and we know they've been recruiting again. The whole situation concerns me. We need someone in there. We need to know what's going on."

"Remus, _who_ is it?" Harry repeated as he stood up.

Remus swallowed deeply and met Hermione's gaze. His eyes plead for her forgiveness.

"The Malfoys."


	2. Chapter 2: The Answer

The room went silent with all eyes on Remus. He shifted nervously.

"No, absolutely not!" Ron shouted as he stood, knocking his chair over in the process.

Tonks stood quickly and shut the door to the meeting room.

"That's not happening, Remus. No way," Harry said shaking his head at the older man.

"I knew you would react this way, but we _do_ need an Auror in the circle. Hermione hasn't been with us long and I think we could easily have her 'placed' in another department so that they don't know she's one of us."

Harry was still shaking his head and Ron was red with fury.

"No. No, I won't let her," Harry said firmly.

Hermione stood abruptly and angrily; her chair rolled off behind her and bounced against the wall. She looked at Ron and Harry flabbergasted.

"I'm a grown woman. I can make my own decisions, Harry," she said in a low, menacing voice.

Though he had long before grown larger than the woman he'd known so long, the look in her eyes at that moment scared him. He knew for certain that her bite was worse than her bark, which wasn't nice in itself. He slowly sunk back into his seat and shifted his eyes to the table.

She turned her attention to Ron.

"I feel the same way, Hermione. I won't let you go even if I have to _Imperius_ you myself to stop you."

Hermione's eyes flashed in anger and she looked to Lupin, before glaring at Ron again.

"Give me the details, Remus. I think I'm up for it." Her voice was steady and dark as she held Ron's gaze.

She had never fully forgiven him. She said she forgave him and she tried to go back to the way they had always been, friends, but she had never forgotten. She would never forget, and because of that, she couldn't fully forgive.

After graduating from Hogwarts, Hermione and Ron had become serious, steady. They lived together in a flat in London while Harry and Ron took part in the Death Eater hunts and Hermione attended university. Hermione expected Ron to propose but she was left waiting. After three years, it finally happened. Her world shattered.

_She came home early from class; her finals week was upon her and all her professors cut classes short. She walked into their flat. There, on her sofa, sat Ron and Lavender Brown snogging away. She had frozen at the door, unable to move any further. She dropped her bag of books causing a loud thump. The two shot apart and fearfully looked to where the noise had come from._

_Ron rose slowly off the couch, his eyes never leaving Hermione's. _

_She was hurt and angry; she wanted to Avada Kedavra the both of them in that moment but she wouldn't. He had just ripped her heart from her chest but she still loved him.__"Ron?" Hermione asked in a quiet hurt voice. She stared at the two of them in stunned silence; her mind didn't want to process what she had just seen. __"It's not what it looks like, Hermione, I swear." He held both his hands up as if to show his innocence. _

Her heart was pounding in her ears and she couldn't think properly. The walls had closed in on her, the world was falling out from under her. Every breath felt like knives piercing her chest. And then the tears came. They started slowly, one fat tear trailed down her cheek and she angrily brushed it away. She didn't want to cry over him. Not this time. He didn't deserve her tears.

* * *

_She stepped away from the door.__"Lavender get out. Now." __The other girl looked imploringly at Ron, who nodded at her to leave. She bent over, retrieving her purse and a black bra. _

_Hermione's guts rolled over and the anger threatened to spew forth from her like the flames from a Hungarian Horntail. __"Don't worry, you can come back tomorrow, he's all yours," Hermione said coldly as Lavender scooted by her and out the door. __Ron's eyes widened as he processed Hermione's words. Understanding flooded his mind; he might really lose her this time. He quickly tried to make amends. __"Hermione, please, it was a mistake. I didn't mean for it to happen, honest," Ron pleaded with her. _

_She held up a hand to stop his pathetic excuses._

_"Hermione…I love you. I want to be with you, only you."_

_The anger was burning; she didn't know how long she could hold it in. Two more fat tears escaped her eyes, tears of pain and fury.__"Get out, Ron."_

_"Hermione, we should talk about this. We can work out it out. I know you can forgive me."_

_Her fingers twitched on her wand._

_"How dare you. You have no right to ask for my forgiveness. Get. Out."_

_He had crossed the living room and stood five feet in front of her. His arms were outstretched like he was going to hold her._

_"Ron, don't touch me. Get the hell out."_

_"Please, Hermione. I love you so much."_

_"Ron!"_

_"You love me don't you? Don't you? We can fix it. We can make it work…please."_

_He was begging. He was __**actually**__ begging her._

_"I'm leaving, Ron, this time for good. You've had too many chances as is. It's over."_

_"No."_

_"This isn't debatable. I'm not staying with you, end of story. It's. Over."_

_"No…please."_

_"Get the __**fuck**__**out**__, Ron!" The rage was rising; she'd blow at any moment. She was becoming volatile, a walking volcano of wrath._

_"Hermione…" now tears were rolling down his face. He looked pathetic. He __**was**__ pathetic._

_"I need time to pack and I don't want to look at you right now, I don't want to speak to you right now. If you don't go, you're going to make me doing something I don't want to do, Ron. Leave." __"No. I won't go. I won't let you go, Hermione. I love you so much. I've always loved you." He took a step towards her. __"Ron, I'm warning you, leave." __"No." __She looked up from the floor and raised her wand. His eyes widened in fear. She wouldn't really kill him would she? His mind was racing, picturing the green flash flying towards him. Maybe she wanted to hurt him now, the torture curse. In the seconds between when she raised her had and spoke the words, he had started all out sobbing, picturing his imminent death. __"Imperio," she said with her wand aimed at her now ex-lover. Her eyes were shadowed by her angry scowl. Her voice was deep and terrifying. _

_Before he could even comprehend what she had done, the euphoria engulfed him. He'd Avada himself if she told him to. It was so wonderful to float along, so happy, so peaceful. __She instructed him out of the apartment and into the elevator, down to the lobby. When he reached the front desk, his eyes were glazed. He had been completely helpless to free himself of the spell; Hermione's wrath was far too strong for him. _

_She released the spell and sealed the front door. It hadn't been three minutes before he was pounding on the door and screaming at her to let him in and talk to him. She packed quickly and floo'd to Harry's. __She never looked back. _

* * *

Ron's choice of words had triggered that painful memory, _"I won't let you go even if I have to Imperius you myself to stop you"_, and sealed her fate.

Harry glared at Ron; he was sure, if Ron hadn't spoken, he could have talked her out of it. Of course, Harry knew what had transpired the night Hermione had used an Unforgivable and he knew the effect Ron's words had had on her. Ron pushed her over the cliff and there would be no saving her now.

"Meeting adjourned. Hermione, step into my office please," Lupin said, entering an office adjacent to the meeting room.

Hermione left the table with one last scathing look at Ron. She learned not even two weeks ago that Ron and Lavender were engaged.

Ron's eyes looked moist as he watched her enter Lupin's office. He still loved her. He would always love her. He'd really fucked things up good. She barely spoke to him now. She never looked at him like she used to. And after everything, he still cared about her, as a lover, as a girlfriend, as a sister. She was _his_ Hermione. No one deserved her. He certainly didn't, but Malfoy? That git was the last person on the planet worthy of her; no, beetles were more deserving than Malfoy.

He'd lost her; he could accept that, he could live with it. But he'd never expected her to walk, willingly, into the arms of Malfoy, of all people. She'd be _marrying_ him.

In the wizarding world, marriage was a very serious binding, unlike in the Muggle world, where people could marry and divorce as often as they liked. In the wizarding world, you made sure you wanted to be with the person you married. Without a _good_ reason, you were bound, unable to divorce, stuck for life; literally, 'till death do we part.

Ron thought of him and Lavender, there was a girl he would rather not be bound to for life, but she was pregnant now and his responsibility.

Ron's heart ached at the thought of Hermione being tied to Malfoy forever, having his children, walking amongst Death Eaters. She'd be Hermione Malfoy.

Hermione Granger died when she walked out of that meeting room.


	3. Chapter 3: Getting the Details

Hermione stepped into Lupin's office and shut the door to the conference room. She dropped into a leather chair in front of his desk. She sat in silence and listened to him shuffling papers, and her fellow Aurors leaving the meeting room. She could make out Harry yelling at Ron and smiled to herself.

Lupin sat down with a heavy sigh and looked at Hermione.

"I'm sorry to put this on you, Hermione. You don't have to do it. I'm sure we can find someone else, I can talk it over with Kingsley," he said; he looked teary-eyed and sounded heartbroken.

"No. No one else will be as good as an Auror." She smiled at him reassuringly.

"No one will be as good as _you_."

"Yeah…" she quietly trailed off.

"Are you positive you want to do this? You understand that… this is marriage. This is wizarding marriage, Hermione." He looked at her imploringly.

"I'm sure, Remus. And I know, there's no way out once I say 'I do'. I'll do it anyway. I have no one else now."

"You know Ron still loves you-"

"He's getting married, Remus."

"What? When?"

"Ginny let it slip about two weeks ago. He's engaged to Lavender," she said sadly. She didn't want him, but it still hurt. He never asked her to marry him and she had loved him more than anything in the world.

"I'm sorry, Hermione. I really am. Honest, I don't want you to feel forced into this."

"Remus. Enough. I'm doing it, end of discussion. I'll either die in the process or at the very least live a life of luxury," her tone was nonchalant, light, and playful; she smiled at him.

Remus shook his head and put his face in his hands. He sighed again.

"What do I need to know? Give me the details. This is just a job."

"That's just it, Hermione! It's _not_ just a job. This is the rest of your life. This is serious. You have to be convincing as… the Lady of the Manor and as a loyal wife _and_ hide the fact that you're an Auror and transferring information to us. He has to trust you; your life will be forfeited if he finds you out. This is very serious. This is possibly the most dangerous assignment I've ever given out."

"I know, Remus. Let me deal with it how I need to… please."

Remus sighed.

"Ok. I'm done arguing. Lucius and Draco were here this morning. They had a meeting with Kingsley. I don't know how they knew the details of the Act so fast but… you know the Malfoys, they have connections everywhere. They told Kingsley they wanted to do it and in exchange they asked he clear the family name: Drop the War Criminal charges, restore them to good faith with the Ministry-"

"What! Kingsley _agreed_ to all of that?"

"Yes, well, he told them 'yes' but he told me he wanted you to do it. The only way he will… well… restore the Malfoy name is if we have an Auror in there."

"I see." She had never really had a choice in the matter.

"Anyway, they wanted it set up fast. Surely they aren't hurting for money already, there has to be another reason…they're up to something. I know it," he said, almost to himself. "They asked by the end of the week, so we still have two days before we have to notify them. I think it's best to wait until Friday and…uhm… get you some _training_ in."

"Training? What are you talking about, Remus? I've been fully trained by the Aurors already and I have a mediwitch degree. How much more training can I possibly need?" Hermione smiled at him, curious.

"Oh, no, it's not what you're thinking. It's more along the lines of… _etiquette_."

"Oh, I see. Well… you know me, always eager to learn."

"Yes, well, Lucius resigned his title, passing it on to his son. Draco is now Earl Malfoy of Wiltshire."

Hermione raised her eyebrows in response and snorted.

"Yes…anyway, he holds a title and consequently any wife of his would have to well… know how to act in _that_ type of society. Not only do the Malfoys consort with suspected Death Eaters and dark wizards, they have been known to play host to other wizarding 'nobility' from throughout Europe. They don't act high and mighty for no reason. It's just… how they live; it's what they do. They have parties, balls, and dinners, regularly. If you want to have a chance at this at all, if you want to live through this, you need to know how a … lady… acts."

Hermione guffawed and bent over in giggles.

"I'm sorry… it's just how a _lady_ acts, that's rich," she said through restrained chuckles. She had tears of laughter glistening under her eyes.

Remus shook his head at her somberly.

"I know, I know, '_It's serious_'," she said, mocking his previous tone and statement.

"Right, well, we will be going over etiquette with you. I'm sure most of it is common sense, even if it's not habit. You'll just have to be _very_ aware of your actions until it becomes habit. You have to put forth _some_ effort. Merlin knows what they'd do to you if you went in there acting like…well…like Ron, who I doubt has any idea how to act in that type of company."

"Don't you think he'll suspect something if I'm acting _completely_ different? I _only_ went to school with him for seven years, Remus. He knows I'm no lady. Hell, I punched him in third year, if that's not unladylike I don't know what is."

"I don't expect you to become Narcissa. Just… you need to know how to act or I hate to think what Draco might do or say if you embarrass him. I don't know what they're up to, but if he's anything like Lucius…"

Hermione nodded seriously. She didn't really want to find out either. He wasn't a killer as a scared boy, but she didn't know the man she was agreeing to marry. It was possible he was every bit his father's son now; the rumors would have one believe he was. _The apple doesn't fall far from the tree_, Hermione thought as she gazed at the floor.

"Oh, that's another thing, you'll be going to the Manor to live, obviously. As far as I know, the wedding is being arranged for a month from now, around the end of October. And Narcissa and Lucius still live there."

Hermione lifted her right eyebrow and nodded slowly, a little disappointed by that news.

"I _can't_ wait," was all she muttered.

"You're sure about this?"

She looked at him with a sweet smile.

"I am, Remus. I have nothing left in this life. I'd gladly sacrifice whatever future I may have had for what good I may do in this situation. The only man I've ever really loved is marrying another woman; Harry and Ginny are married and expecting; my parents are dead… I have nothing left. This is for… the greater good, in the words of a very wise wizard," she said sadly.

"That's not true and you know it. You have all of us, me and Tonks and all the Weasleys love you like a child or sibling. And you will always be like a sister to Harry. I think Harry and Ginny will both be devastated by this."

"They will be, I'm sure. But they have their life. I won't try to force myself into their lives because I'm lonely. I go home to an empty apartment. I have Crookshanks and he's _not_ a very good flat-mate. I've taken to eating microwave meals, going only to work, the gym and occasionally Flourish and Blotts, and I've thrown myself into my work. Nothing else exists outside of my little world. I don't go out, I don't have dates…" She sighed and rubbed her face with her hands.

"Alright." He sighed heavily. "Normal time tomorrow, I'll tell Kingsley you're in and get your training started tomorrow a.m. Think about it tonight, Hermione. Make sure you're ok with this. It's not final until they show up and take you."

She snorted and sneered at that.

"Yes, Malfoy property."

"That's _not_ what I meant."

"I know what you meant, Remus. It's just ironic, I'm giving my life, my future, to the boy I grew up hating- and I still do for that matter- almost entirely for his benefit. Do you think he'll appreciate it?"

She stood and shrugged on her pea coat and scarf. She looked at Remus amusedly.

"We both know the answer to that," she replied to his silence and walked out the door. She was going home to pack, cry, get drunk, and sleep, most likely not in that order. After all, tomorrow was another day.


	4. Chapter 4: Life and Etiquette

Thursday morning Hermione awoke bleary eyed with a stuffy nose and one hell of a headache. When she checked the mirror, it was obvious by her puffy face and red nostrils that she had spent most of the night crying.

She showered and went to work with glamour charms to cover most of it. She fed Crookshanks his breakfast and checked the Muggle weather.

"Surprising… rain in London," she commented to Crookshanks.

With her coat and a cup of coffee, she locked up and walked to work. Every morning for Hermione Granger had gone this way for the last four months. After the fallout with Ron, Hermione finished school living with Harry and Ginny. All were thankful it was only for a month; her living with them had put a damper on Harry and Ginny's love life.

Then she moved into her Muggle flat, which was still extremely bare, even more so now due to the packing she had done the night before. She hadn't had a single visitor, other than Harry and Ginny. She hadn't used the stove, aside from reheating her delivered pizza. After all, she had no one to cook for; it just wasn't worth the effort for her alone. She didn't have a couch; a lone recliner in front of her telly was all that occupied her wasteland of a living room. Her bedroom held only her bed, which was rarely made, and a wardrobe.

She wore the same basic thing everyday: white bra, white knickers, jeans, a plain colored t-shirt, and her trainers. _Every_ day. The only difference in her day-to-day appearance was the color of her t-shirt. Her hair was always in a pony or bun. She washed it; towel dried it (even though she knew that contributed to its frizziness); and pulled it right up on top of her head. She never bothered with makeup, though if she had she might have acquired one of those illusive dates. She felt no need to fix herself up. She had no one to look good for.

Unlike many of her peers, Hermione chose to live a fairly Muggle life. Her apartment was devoid of talking mirrors, or enchanted brooms. She did everything the Muggle way and found great pleasure in doing so. This was mainly because if she did it by magic, she would have found herself with even more idle alone-time and if she had anymore of _that_ on her hands she would need to go ahead and move to St. Mungo's.

Rather than Apparate or use Floo powder, Hermione chose to go to the Ministry the Muggle way, by tube. She found the metro calming and it intrigued her, the busy lives of oblivious Muggles. They had no clue of the war that had raged in the Wizarding world, of the lives that were lost. They lived believing magic was something found in fairytales.

As she sat watching a dapper looking gentleman in a dark blue suit reading his morning paper, she wondered what he would do if she pulled out her wand and levitated his reading material above his head. Thoughts like those often gave her a small smile and lifted her spirits, if only marginally.

Due to her choice of transport, she always had to use the Visitors entrance but this didn't bother her at all. She went about her workday as dutifully as she had gone about taking notes and studying at Hogwarts. She ate lunch alone, on the street watching energetic Muggles in their shiny cars. If she were lucky, Harry, Tonks, or even Ginny would stop by and ask her to join them.

Hermione felt like she lived in purgatory; neither in heaven nor hell. She didn't feel she had a place in the Muggle world _or_ in the Wizarding world anymore. She felt invisible. If someone had told her she was severely depressed, she would have scoffed and made some tart reply. She never realized that there was, indeed, a dark cloud hanging over her at all times, blocking the sunshine from her life. In fact, that cloud had been present since the day she cursed Ron. It hung about weighing down her heart like a Dementor's fog. It seemed nothing could cut through that darkness and return the joy to her eyes.

She had yet to be sent on a real assignment, real meaning dangerous. This that she was now assigned to would be her first and last 'real' assignment. She already worked out that, aside from transferring information, she wouldn't work; or rather, she wouldn't be _allowed_ to work.

Remus was right. The Malfoys were most certainly _not_ hurting for money. No doubt, they didn't like giving hefty amounts to the Ministry due to taxes, but they were by no means going into the poor house. Granted, they had lost most of the respect and social standing with the wizarding community they had once had, but as always, large amounts of money could easily buy respect.

They, unlike many of the other Pureblood families, weren't having issues with their business arrangements and transactions. It didn't hurt matters any that the Malfoys continued to associate and do their dealings with the less than reputable members of society.

No, Hermione was quite sure that Draco would be adamantly against his wife working. Hermione had never lived a lifestyle like the Malfoys were used to living, but she knew that men like that were highly offended by their wives being employed. It insulted their masculinity, their ability to provide and be the head of the house. They may have been at the top of the darker society, but they still had an image to maintain on _all_ fronts.

If Hermione worked, _good_ _Merlin_, the wizarding world might actually think she _needed_ to. There was no way _that_ would be admissible, not by the Malfoys anyway. Aside from reasons of reputation, it was completely pointless to work when you had as much money as those people did. A wife's employment was to _spend_ those vast fortunes.

She would make the most of her final two real workdays. She would miss Harry fiercely, and Tonks as well. They were the only Aurors she had much contact with on a day-to-day basis. The others were always out in the field. Hermione, being the junior member, had to do all of the tedious book research and paper work. Sometimes, she suspected that this had not so much to do with her time in but more to do with her general work ethic.

After all, who didn't know how good Hermione Granger was at researching, taking notes, and studying? Even so, it only helped to reinforce her feelings of uselessness.

She wanted desperately to have a purpose again. Harry no longer needed her to outwit Death Eaters and Dark Lords; when he did need help, he was surrounded by far more experienced Aurors than she.

This was part of the reason behind her acceptance of the mission. She wanted to be useful to the Wizarding world again. She wanted to do _something_ with her life, something other than filing paperwork. She wanted to influence the world, to change it for the better.

The other part was that, she honestly had no valid reason to turn it down. She didn't, truthfully, have anyone in her life: no family or boyfriend; and her friends were so busy she rarely saw them outside of the office.

Hermione walked up to her cubicle and looked at her desk, it -like her home- was completely bare, save the one picture from sixth year at Hogwarts of her, Harry, and Ron, all smiling brightly at each other and the camera.

_Better times_, she thought sadly.

She looked around the bustling office; everyone was busy. Most were chatting animatedly amongst themselves; others were rushing in and out. Hundreds of paper airplanes zipped around the ceiling, occasionally crashing into one of the taller men who stood too suddenly. Owls swooped in delivering mail.

A large group had formed in the meeting room and she could see Lupin standing at the head of the table again. She narrowed her eyes when Harry's face became visible through the glass window that she was looking. He was standing and visibly arguing with Lupin, who was hanging his head in defeat. Harry stormed out of the room, his face red with anger and his hands running through his hair.

Hermione wanted to chase after him and find out what was the matter, but instead, she sat at her desk and waited. She knew the work would arrive soon. It always did.

Sure enough, she had not been sitting two minutes when a paper airplane zoomed into her cubicle and landed smoothly on her empty desk.

Hermione unfolded the memo and read the note.

_Hermione –_

_When you arrive and get this, please proceed to Moody's office. Your instructor will meet you there._

_R. Lupin_

Hermione stood and gathered her things up again and made for Moody's office.

* * *

Upon reaching the mad man's workroom, she found him to be absent and an elderly woman in his place.

"Professor McGonagall?" Hermione asked, as she looked at the very familiar black, feathered hat before her.

The woman turned around.

"Oh, Ms. Granger! It's been far too many years!" She stood and hugged her former student tightly.

"Are you my… etiquette… instructor?"

"Yes, dear," the woman smiled at her.

"Wow, not what I was expecting… what are we doing today?"

"Oh, I'm taking you back to Hogwart's. We'll work there today and tomorrow. I really shouldn't be gone from the school all day, you know," the professor smiled and started leading Hermione to the Atrium.

"It's been so long since I've been there," Hermione said in a whisper with a smile.

She was extremely excited to be returning to her school. It felt like going home after a great many years away. If anything could lift the darkness of her depression, it would most likely be a holiday at Hogwarts, if only she were able to take that holiday. It would have been even better if Dumbledore was still there but times change, war had come and people had died.

Hermione stepped into one of the outgoing fireplaces and tossed down her powder, saying clearly, 'Hogwarts'. The only fireplace on the network was in the Headmaster's office now.

She stepped out and examined the room, which was almost the same as it had always been. She felt the warm glow of nostalgia wash over her and smiled involuntarily.

"Ah, Ms. Granger, it's been too long," a familiar voice said, and Hermione spun around half expecting to see the old man standing there with her. Instead he was smiling, twinkling, at her from his portrait above McGonagall's desk.

"At least _Potter_ didn't come along for the reunion," another voice added bitterly.

Hermione couldn't help but laugh as she looked over at her old potions professor's scowling portrait.

"It's good to see you, Professors Snape and Dumbledore," she replied with tears glistening in her eyes. The two former headmaster's looked back at her, one smiling brightly the other glaring.

McGonagall stepped out of the fireplace behind Hermione.

"You would _never_ believe what I have to deal with from _those_ two all day, worse than the first-years they both are," she muttered as she rounded the desk and took a seat, smiling at Hermione.

Hermione chuckled and looked at the two pictures again. Dumbledore continued to smile at her warmly; Snape only stared. Finally, he huffed, turned and stalked out of his portrait; his robes billowed behind him even on canvas.

"Oh, Severus, you _really_ must lighten up," the elder man said with a chuckle.

McGonagall only shook her head and waived her hand at one of the chairs for Hermione to sit.

"So, Remus told me of your…upcoming assignment," the headmistress finally broke the silence.

Hermione could only nod.

"Are you sure you want to go through with it? I imagine he's asked you several times but… are you… _sure_?" she asked.

"Yes, Professor, I'm positive. I've thought about it a great deal and…I'm doing it. Too many people have sacrificed their lives," she said as she glanced up at Dumbledore, "for us to sit by and let another Dark Lord rise."

Dumbledore raised his eyebrows and absentmindedly stroked his long beard.

"It won't be the same if it comes, Ms. Granger. Never will they be as bold as Tom was. They'll hide in the shadows, biding their time. They'll attack in the darkness through manipulation and influence. They won't be so bent on the death of one young boy. They won't be afraid to work _slowly_," Dumbledore said cryptically from his picture and smiled at the girl again, bringing fresh tears to her eyes.

"Oh, Albus, enough of that _rubbish_. You can't know _anything_ for sure," McGonagall said as she turned to look at the old headmaster and shake her head at him.

"Quite right, Minerva, quite right. Nothing is written in stone," he winked at Hermione. "Perhaps Ms. Granger will accomplish a great deal with a small amount of effort."

He smiled at her knowingly before walking out of his portrait too.

"He's always filling my ears with that nonsense, silly riddles, making predictions from a _portrait_. It's like he never died, I tell you," the old woman mumbled to herself as she shuffled through parchments.

Hermione ginned as she watched her former professor; the woman had aged quite a bit since Hermione had last seen her.

She glanced around the room again, taking in the relics that remained after all those years: Gryffindor's sword; Fawkes's perch; Dumbledore's pensieve; a large black cauldron, embellished with two large S's; old Phineas Nigellus' portrait- they all brought back memories, both good and bad.

"It feels _so_ good to be back here. It's the only place I felt I had a place. The only place where I felt whole." Hermione sighed, fighting back the tears that threatened to fall again.

The headmaster looked up at her and smiled sweetly.

"Perhaps you should apply for a teaching position when one opens."

"Oh…" Hermione's heart skipped and she grinned at the thought; but then she stopped and remembered her earlier thoughts, "I'm sure I won't be working anymore after… but if anything changes, I would like nothing more. Being an Auror isn't quite… what I wanted for myself."

"All right, dear. Just remember you're always welcome here." She shifted one final stack of parchments before clasping her hands and looking thoughtfully at the girl before her, "Now, where to begin, tell me what you know of formal etiquette, please."

"Well, elbows off the table, don't talk with your mouth full, silverware goes from the outside in, don't interrupt… general… manners I suppose," Hermione said, remembering the childhood lessons her mother had taught her so many, long years before.

"Well, there's a lot more that you must know. A family like theirs is almost always formal. Even family dinner will probably be formal-"

"What, you mean when it's just me and Draco and his parents… it will be a formal dinner?"

"Yes, most likely…"

"As in… suit and dresses formal?"

"I have _never_ dined at Malfoy Manor, Ms. Granger, but I would assume so."

Hermione sighed and rested her forehead on her palm.

"Posture is _very_ important. At dinner, at parties, in public, you must carry yourself well. Stop slouching. Back straight, sit up, chin up, shoulders back. That's the first thing you should work on because it is the hardest to correct."

Hermione immediately dropped her arm and righted herself by the professor's instructions.

"Good, now stay that way. At formal gatherings everyone will address Draco as Lord Malfoy, because of his _title_," she said the word with disdain, "and you as Lady Malfoy. However, at casual and family gatherings I'm sure they go by given names, if they don't they are _truly_ the most arrogant, pretentious lot I've ever seen."

Hermione snorted at that.

"Do _not_ do that again, Ms. Granger."

"Sorry, Professor."

The whole of Thursday continued in this manner and by the time Hermione floo'd back to her apartment she was exhausted. However, she was certain she could pull off this whole 'Lady Malfoy' thing and well at that.

* * *

Friday was the same as Thursday except McGonagall sent Hermione back to the ministry at three pm with a hug and a wish of luck. Hermione made her way up to the Auror department in search of Lupin or Harry. Their offices were empty, as was the meeting room.

Curious, Hermione began searching the rest of the floor. After being unable to find anyone that could tell her of either man's whereabouts she decided to check in with Shacklebolt.

She approached the Minister's office and immediately heard Harry yelling.

She hurried to the door and knocked.

"Enter," came Kingsley's deep voice.

She slowly pushed the door open, praying the Malfoys weren't inside. She sighed in relief when she found only Harry, Remus, and Mad Eye with the Minister.

"Ms. Granger, I'm glad you're here. We were just discussing you." Kingsley motioned to a chair for her to sit in.

Harry paced in front of the window, his hands tugging at his hair. Hermione shook her head at him; he'd pull it all out by the time he hit thirty if he kept up _that_ habit.

"I still don't like it. I don't like it one bit." He furrowed his brows and shut his eyes tightly, as though trying to fight away the headache he had, no doubt, _pulled_ upon himself, "I _don't_ think it's a good idea, Kingsley. Something could happen and we'd never know…" Harry said turning to face the Minister again; he was obviously bordering on hysteria, his green eyes were wide and darted almost as wildly as Mad Eye's magical one.

"I think she is fully capable of taking care of herself, Potter. I don't think Malfoy would subject himself to marrying a Muggleborn if he was just going to turn around and lock her in the dungeons or torture her," Kingsley replied.

Hermione's eyes widened.

"If you're trying to talk me out of it, Shacklebolt, you're on the right track," she told him after a moment and smiled mischievously.

"Please… continue then, Kingsley," Harry said and waited hopefully, missing entirely the grin and sarcasm in the woman's voice.

Kingsley shook his head and turned away from them. When he didn't attempt to dissuade Hermione, Harry began his frenzied pacing again.

"Are you still sure about this, Hermione?" Remus asked her.

"Yes, I haven't changed my mind and I've had time to think about it… that is unless Kingsley has anymore disturbing images to impart upon me." She looked at Kingsley with a smile.

Mad Eye watched her closely for several minutes, his crazy eye examining her and spinning madly. It was unnerving and finally, she looked at him.

"Mad Eye, _please_ stop."

"Sorry, Granger. I think she's fine for the job, Potter. She's not scared. Maybe things will work out better than expected." Mad Eye looked to Harry.

Harry turned, his mouth hanging open, let out a scoff of frustration, threw his hands in the air in exasperation, and stormed out of the room, slamming the door in his wake.

"Well… what's happening?" Hermione finally asked eagerly.

"I believe the Malfoys will be arriving at four," Hermione looked at her watch, it was fifteen till. "And then I will let them know of the arrangements we've come up with," Kingsley finished.

"What should I do?" she asked him.

"Go and spend time with your friends, I'll send for you when you're needed." He waved his hand at her, letting her know she was dismissed.

She left the room in search of a very distraught Harry.


	5. Chapter 5: The Meeting and Manor

Draco and Lucius Malfoy entered the Ministry at the same time Hermione was exiting Kingsley's office and heading back to the Auror department in search of Harry. The two made their way to the Minister's office, never failing to look proud and regal. The woman at the welcome desk rolled her eyes at the pompous display before looking back to her latest edition of _Witch Weekly_.

They reached the waiting area outside of the Minister's office and his receptionist let him know they had arrived. Kingsley opened the door and ushered the two men in.

"Good afternoon, gentlemen. I trust you've been well?" he said, trying to make small talk as he took his seat and motioned for the others to do the same.

Lucius ignored him and with a heavy sigh began examining the walls, showing how extremely bored he was with the entire situation.

"Fine, thank you, Minister," Draco said in as charming a voice as he could muster.

"Good to hear. Now, about your arrangements-"

"Yes, I hope you've been successful," Draco interjected.

"I believe so. I only hope you feel the same way."

Draco rolled his eyes. "I asked for a Muggleborn witch, that shouldn't be _too_ hard to come by."

"Yes, and I've found one, an employee here at the Ministry." Kingsley looked down at the parchments on his desk.

"Which department?" Draco asked with narrowed eyes, clearly suspicious.

"She's been working in research, floating between departments," Kingsley replied without missing a beat. It was _partially_ true. She _had_ in fact been seen in and working with various departments in the Ministry.

Draco nodded in approval, though he was still suspicious. This was, after all, an old member of Dumbledore's 'secret' society.

"I presume you'd like to meet her now?" Kingsley asked the two men.

Draco stared at the minister and didn't answer. Lucius' eyes never left the portraits on the walls.

"Right, I'll just send her a memo then." He quickly filled out a note that zipped out of his office in search of Hermione.

* * *

"Does she have a name?" Draco finally asked after several minutes of listening to Kingsley's quill scratching on parchment.

"Yes, I believe-"

A knock on Kingsley's door interrupted him and he stood to answer it.

"Mr. Malfoy," Kingsley said as he opened the door, revealing the young woman. "I assume you remember Ms. Granger." Kingsley said with a sly smile as Hermione stepped in.

Draco's mouth dropped. It took him a moment to regain composure. Once he had, his trademark sneer spread across his face.

"How could I ever forget," he said as he stood.

Hermione wasn't going to let him get to her. She tried to remain as cool as possible. She smiled at him warmly.

"It's nice to see you, Malfoy. How has life after Hogwart's been treating you?" she asked him, her smile never falling.

She was impressed; his air of superiority had multiplied ten fold in five years, an astounding feat, in her opinion. And though she was want to despise everything about him, she couldn't deny how perfectly elegant he looked in his …

_Merlin's shorts, is he wearing a Muggle suit, _she thought in shock, _surely, not_.

The young man paused and scowled slightly, he could hear the sarcasm in her voice and see the fakeness in her smile.

He nodded his head and thought, _Two can play that game_.

Even so, he was slightly unnerved by her Cheshire grin and her obvious sizing up of him.

"It's been treating me rather well. You?" He finally replied and motioned her to take his seat.

"Just lovely," she said as she sat and looked to her left to Lucius, who still had not yet spoken a word.

"Why, Mr. Malfoy, what a pleasure!" She said to him cheerily, smiling broadly.

Lucius looked at her with a sneer. He quickly examined her in her quite frumpy Muggle attire then scoffed, rolled his eyes, and returned to examining the walls and portraits. Hermione faced Kingsley, who had been watching the exchanges in amusement, and smiled victoriously.

"Right, well, I guess we should go over the contracts then," Kingsley said as his eyes darted between the three other people in the room. He reached into his desk drawer and removed the paperwork he had prepared for the meeting.

Hermione felt Draco rest his hand on the back of the chair she was sitting in but was determined not show him he could affect her. Kingsley began reading through the documents. He made perfectly clear Draco's duties as a husband and what would immediately nullify the marriage contract.

Lucius began picking at his manicured nails and examining them. Hermione rolled her eyes at him.

_How will I ever survive with these gits,_ she thought with a huff.

However, she too had lost focus on Kingsley's words as she read the fine print of her own document.

* * *

Five o'clock rolled around and the papers were signed. The agreement was finalized. She was magically obligated to go forth with the wedding. Her fate was sealed and, short of Draco breaking the contract through his actions, she was stuck with him for life.

She wondered with a Slytherin-worthy smile how far she could push him. Various schemes began materializing in her mind. True, she would likely never follow through with _most_ of them, but the thought of the torment she could bring upon Malfoy filled her with glee. The best part was, he would be helpless to retaliate, for the most part.

What she did not know was that beside her, Draco was thinking _exactly_ the same thing. His rather intelligent mind (if he did say so himself) was going over the contract again searching for loopholes; he knew there had to be several somewhere, there always were. He'd have to remember to send it to his Counselor for further investigation.

With both of the younger people completely distracted with their machinations, Lucius sighed heavily and stood first. Kingsley looked expectantly at Hermione. Finally, he cleared his throat to get her attention.

"Sorry, Kingsley, I was…thinking," she said with a blush. The minister only chuckled at her.

"_Draco_…" Lucius muttered impatiently and sighed, the first word he had spoken throughout the entire visit, and tapped his heavy cane on the floor.

Draco's head snapped in the direction of his father's voice and he looked at him quizzically.

"Shall we?" his father asked him.

"Oh, yes, of course." The younger man finally realized the meeting was over and retrieved his cloak.

Hermione stood and smiled nervously at Kingsley. He silently mouthed '_Good luck_' to her and she nodded to him. She turned to follow Lucius out the door as Draco held it open.

"I…uh… I need to go get my things. I left them in Harry's office earlier," Hermione said to Draco.

She just knew he was going to smart off or yell at her for that.

_Bugger, I've only been around him an hour and I'm worrying about pissing him off. Snap out of it, Granger, _she thought angrily, trying to strengthen her mental resolve and find the brave Gryffindor within.

However, that girl had gone into hiding several months prior, four to be precise; it would take quite a bit of digging to bring her back out –if there was anyone capable of speeding up that process, though, it was Draco Malfoy. Nevertheless, Hermione fixed her face into the best scowl she could muster in an effort to deter his tirade; she just _knew_ he would say something.

Draco raised an eyebrow at her, intrigued by the curious facial changes he had just witnessed, then looked to his father, who was tapping his cane with irritation.

"Why don't you go ahead, father-"

"Of course, I'll see you at the Manor," Lucius interrupted, speaking quickly. "Draco…" he paused and eyed Hermione with something akin to distaste, "Ms. Granger." He tipped his head at them and hurried down the hall for the Atrium, clearly eager to escape before the opportunity passed.

Hermione could only scowl and shake her head at him; _Still the same old Malfoy. Some things never change_, she thought wryly at his rudeness. Then, she remembered the other Malfoy was still standing beside her. She turned to face him and was about to ask him what he was doing when he spoke up.

"Potter's office?" he said with a smirk.

"Oh… right…" Hermione could have slapped herself and quickly led the way towards Harry's office.

Neither spoke for the duration of the walk. When they reached Harry's door, Hermione glanced at Draco willing him to wait outside. She pushed open the door and stepped in.

She should have known better, Draco was never one to pick up on subtlety.

He followed her in. Even if he _had_ known what she wanted, he would have defied her anyway, simply to spite her.

Harry looked up as Hermione entered and smiled at her. His smile faded when he saw Malfoy following her. Harry glared at the other man. Draco glared back with a smirk.

"Potter," Draco said.

"Malfoy," Harry replied.

Hermione knew the two would continue to glower at each other until one finally decided to start throwing insults at the other, then- undoubtedly- curses would start flying.

_Boys_, she thought angrily.

She walked around Harry's desk and wrapped her arms around him. He finally broke his gaze from Malfoy and hugged Hermione back. She fought hard to hold back her tears but her eyes defied her and misted anyway.

"I love you, Harry. Tell Ginny I love her too," she whispered in his ear with a sniffle.

"Of course. You know we love you too, Hermione," Harry replied as he rubbed

her back softly.

Draco rolled his eyes at the two. Harry noticed and glared at him again.

"I'll write you often, ok? You _must_ write me back, I think I'll go mad if I can't talk to you and Ginny," she whispered again, she hoped she was quiet enough that Draco couldn't hear her.

"You know we will. Just…be careful," he said, his gaze still fixed on Malfoy. "Don't hesitate to contact me if you need anything, _anything_ at all," he added and smirked at Malfoy.

"You know, I really hate to interrupt…" Malfoy said without a trace of sincerity.

Hermione pulled away from Harry.

"Tell everyone that I love them and I'll miss them. I'll try to write to everybody."

Harry nodded.

Hermione stepped away from him and retrieved her Muggle coat and handbag she had left sitting in one of the chairs. She slipped on her coat and started for the door. Malfoy left the office before her and waited in the hall. Hermione turned at the door and smiled sadly at Harry. Harry smiled back and waved to her as Malfoy grabbed her wrist and started leading her away.

As Draco pulled her away from Harry's office, Hermione saw a head of ginger hair watching them from the conference room doorway. She focused solely on the floor in front of her.

Draco held tightly to Hermione's wrist despite her protests and continued to lead her quickly down the halls. She had to trot to keep up with him and people they passed looked at them curiously.

"_Draco_, I can walk on my own. You're causing a scene," she snapped at him in a whisper when, finally, they were not surrounded by Ministry employees. He released her wrist but she watched him flex his hand continuously.

Her heart was pounding and she was fully preparing herself to be _Crucio'd_ as soon as they reached the Manor.

_He can't use an unforgivable_, she reminded herself after several panic-induced moments and relaxed some.

Nevertheless, her ever brilliant self started going through a mental list of all the painful or discomfort-inducing spells, curses, and hexes he _could_ possibly use. By the time they reached the Floos, she was up to 27 spells that she would _not_ like to be on the receiving end of. Unfortunately, she knew he would not be in violation of the just-signed contracts if he did use them, she only hoped they were too obscure for him to think of.

He stepped into an outbound Floo and looked at her expectantly. When she didn't move he scoffed at her.

"Come on, already!" He snapped in a very sharp manner, his eyes shadowed by his scowling brow.

She narrowed her eyes at him and joined him in the Floo.

"I know how to use the Floos as well, you know," she said hotly.

He wrapped an arm around her waist and, with a rough tug, pulled her closer to him. She felt extremely fragile in such close and intimate proximity to such a violent and clearly angry man. Not to mention, it was exceedingly more obvious how much larger he was than her in that particular position.

He continued to scowl menacingly as he said,

"Malfoy Manor."

* * *

They stopped in a large, marble Floo, which was remarkably clean in Hermione's opinion. Draco stepped out and pulled her with him.

"Bloody hell! What is your problem, Malfoy?" She planted her hands on his chest and pushed him away forcefully.

He ignored her and started towards the double doors of the room.

She glanced around, taking in her surroundings. From what she could gather, they had come into a rather large study. A hefty desk sat at to her left in front of a huge, floor-to-ceiling window. The walls beside the desk were full of leather bound tomes. In front of her, and the fireplace she stood in front of, was an antique, dark green (_of course_, she thought as she rolled her eyes) Queen Anne sofa. Between her and the couch was a small wooden coffee table with an ashtray and cigar clipper sitting on it.

She looked to her right towards the open double doors Draco had left through and realized she was alone. She hurried out the door.

She looked out of the doorway left; the hall was empty. She glanced right and saw the tail of his black cloak flick around the far corner. She took off in a run to catch up with him. She rounded the corner and saw him walking, quite briskly, away from her. Again she ran to catch up with him. When she finally fell in step beside him, she was out of breath and huffing.

She looked at him. He was still scowling. They reached what she gathered was the center of the large hall they had been traversing and Draco cut left and began down the stairs, taking two at a time.

Hermione felt she had no choice but to continue following him. At the bottom of the staircase, two large wooden doors stood before her and she assumed they were the main doors of the Manor. Draco had gone left before the doors and she chased after him.

She entered the room he had, still huffing slightly, and found him sitting in a leather chair. Narcissa was seated across from him on a love seat. Thankfully, Lucius was absent.

_Bugger it all_, she thought when she saw the Malfoy matriarch. She frowned slightly and started to slowly back out of the room. She didn't want to be seen. She was fully expecting the woman to begin what Hermione was sure would be the first of many verbal lashings.

Narcissa looked up from the tea tray where she had been pouring Draco a cup and smiled softly at her.

"Come in, dear," she said in a sweet voice.

Hermione froze at the door and looked at the other woman in confusion. The last things she had been expecting from Narcissa Malfoy were a soft smile and sweet voice. She had assumed the woman would be harsh and cold, like Lucius and Draco. She remembered seeing her at the Quidditch World Cup and had thought she looked like an arrogant snob; of course, she hadn't spoken to her then.

_Maybe she just didn't like Quidditch_, Hermione thought as she stepped hesitantly into the room.

"Come," Narcissa patted the sofa beside her, "Sit with me."

Hermione furrowed her brows but approached the woman and sat anyway, wondering when the abuse would begin. Surely, this was all just an act on her part.

"Tea?" Narcissa asked her once she was seated.

"No, thank you."

Draco hadn't spoken to her, or acknowledged her. He hadn't stopped gazing broodingly at the fire, even while he sipped his tea. He hadn't been quite so angry during or after the meeting, she couldn't figure what had brought about his extremely sudden mood change.

_Maybe he realized what he got himself into_, she thought bitterly, _or perhaps it was something to do with Harry_.

The three sat in silence for several minutes while the two Malfoys drank. Finally, Narcissa set her cup and saucer back on the tea tray and turned her full attention to Hermione. Again, she smiled at her sweetly.

"You're Hermione Granger, right?" she asked her.

Apparently, Lucius had already come and gone before they had arrived and enlightened his wife.

"Yes, that's right."

"Weren't you best friends with Harry Potter?" Narcissa asked her.

"Yes…" Hermione replied.

"I'm curious, Ms. Granger, did you volunteer for this?" the woman asked her politely.

"Well…um… yes and no. The minister asked me personally if I wanted to do it. I don't think he had very many candidates."

"I see. Why did you agree to it?"

Hermione sighed heavily.

"I don't know. I guess I thought I could help other people by doing this, by setting a good example. And…to… help your family as well."

The words left her mouth before she could think twice and she wished she could take them back. They tasted dirty to Hermione, the foulest lie she had told yet.

_As if_ she would volunteer for something like this to help the _Malfoys_.

Narcissa seemed to be thinking the same thing because she sat and looked at the girl for several minutes before smiling and continuing the conversation.

"I doubt very seriously you did it to help us. After all, did not my son taunt you all through school?"

Draco snorted and continued with his tea.

"Yes, he did," Hermione replied, glaring at the side of the man's face.

"And why would you 'want to help us', as you said, if your husband would be the boy that had been so cruel to you?"

Hermione sighed again. She was quickly becoming irritated with the conversation.

"I guess I thought… people can change."

She stared at Draco as she said it but his gaze still hadn't left the fire; she thought she saw his lips twitch into his oh-so-familiar sneer.

"Indeed, they can and do. I heard you were with one of the Weasleys though, why did you give up any chance at a happy marriage?" Narcissa pursued.

Hermione closed her eyes and fought back her anger and tears.

"I _was_ with Ronald Weasley. That ended _several_ months ago. I chose to give up this so-called 'happy ending' in hopes I could do good elsewhere. And because I had nothing else to stop me."

_Sadly_, Hermione thought, _none of that was a lie_.

Draco snorted again and this time did sneer at the fire. Hermione was on the verge of chucking Narcissa's empty teacup at him. The older woman obviously was more perceptive than her son. The tension between the two was palpable.

"Let me show you to your rooms, Miss Granger," she said as she rose and walked towards the foyer.

Hermione waited a moment, breathing heavily from her anger, as she stared at Draco.

She muttered, so only he could hear, "Foul git." Then she stood and followed his mother out.

Narcissa led them back up the staircase Hermione had followed Draco down. Instead of going right, in the direction of the study Hermione had come from, the woman led her to the left.

Despite what she had imagined the Manor to be like, and what she had seen of the dining room many years before, it wasn't as dark and gloomy as she thought it would be.

In her rush to not be left alone by Draco, she hadn't observed anything they had passed. The long hallway was brightly lit with crystal chandeliers, which glowed magically. The white marble floor gleamed beautifully, like ivory. For nearly the entire length of the hall, the dark green walls were covered with portraits. It seemed as though the Malfoys had portraits of every Malfoy that had _ever_ lived. The denizens of said portraits watched her closely and whispered quietly amongst themselves as she made her way down the corridor. They passed dozens of closed doors before the hall turned right, leading into another long hallway.

"It may seem confusing at first, but the Manor is 'U' shaped," Narcissa said as though responding to Hermione's bewilderment at the size of the building.

Halfway down the hall, Narcissa stopped and faced a door on the right side of the hall. She reached forward, opened the door, and allowed Hermione to enter first.

"Your rooms face the inner courtyard. Draco's are across the hall and face the larger gardens."

Hermione examined the room. It was much larger than any bedroom she had ever seen or even imagined. And it was far more luxurious than anything she would have asked for. The first thing Hermione noticed, and was grateful for, was that the walls were _not_ dark green. In fact, she couldn't find any green in the room at all. Her walls were a dark cream color and the duvet on the bed was midnight blue.

"This is lovely," was all she could think to say as she stood in awe.

Narcissa traversed the room opening the adjacent doors.

"This is your closet," she said as she opened the first door on the right wall and the chandelier inside magically lit. Hermione glanced over the woman's shoulder at the ridiculously large closet. She noticed, curiously, that there was already a great deal of clothing within it.

"Those clothes…"

"Those are yours." Narcissa turned to her and smiled timidly at the girl. Her tone implied she didn't mean to insult the girl or her fashion sense. It had been a small but kind gesture on the aristocrat's part.

Hermione understood and nodded at her in thanks.

She moved to the second door on the right wall of the bedroom.

"This is the bathroom," she said as the door open with a quick flick of her wand.

Hermione again, peered inside. Nothing too special, it was a bathroom, but obviously a Malfoy bathroom. Hermione raised her brows at the obvious flamboyancy of the washroom and the hand towels, embroidered with silver M's.

"This is your study," Narcissa's voice called from across the room and at hearing her words, Hermione immediately became interested. She crossed to the double doors on the left wall of the room.

Entering through them, she almost squealed with excitement. Her study was a large room, as big or bigger than her bedroom; every wall was covered with shelves, all of which were heavily laden with books. Hermione's eyes grew wide and her jaw sagged open.

_I've died and gone to heaven_, she thought, momentarily forgetting where she truly was.

She walked to one of the shelves and began trailing her finger across the spines of the books as she glanced through the titles. She happened upon one and gasped. She had been looking for it for ages for her research at the Ministry, _The History of the Dark Arts and Their Defense_. Gently, she removed the book from the shelf and wandered towards the sofa in front of the fireplace in the room.

_Leave it to the Malfoys to have a copy of an extremely rare book_, Hermione thought bitterly as she sat down.

"The balcony has a lovely view of the rose garden in the inner courtyard," Narcissa called from behind Hermione.

She had completely forgotten about the other woman and begrudgingly placed the book on the sofa for later. Hermione walked out the French doors Narcissa had exited through. The balcony indeed had a lovely view. Stone steps led down into the courtyard, which was entirely landscaped with various sizes and colors of rose bushes.

The perfume drifted up to Hermione at the stone railing. Further up the courtyard, near what she guessed would be the entry hall, stood a magnificent fountain. The cascading water sparkled like diamonds in the sun. From her perch, she could see the other wing of the house perfectly and an identical balcony faced hers across the courtyard.

Hermione sat down on one of the benches on the terrace and breathed in the beautiful, heavy scent of the roses that perfumed the air. Birds flittered about merrily, chirping to one another.

_You could almost forget this is Malfoy Manor, sitting here_, Hermione thought with a smile.

"It's wonderful," she finally responded when she noticed Narcissa sitting on the bench beside her and enjoying the view.

"You know," Narcissa started with a very amused grin, "_Lucius_ was the one who insisted on the rose garden." She turned her mischievous grin towards Hermione.

Hermione turned to face the other woman wide-eyed and slack jawed. Upon seeing her reaction, Narcissa giggled. The laughter sounded strange coming from this woman, the wife of a notorious Death Eater.

"Yes, I know it's unbelievable, but he did," she continued after a moment. "He loves them." She looked to Hermione again and attempted and failed to don a serious face, "Don't tell anyone."

She burst into another fit of giggles and Hermione couldn't help but join her. The mental image was both disturbing and hilarious.

Thrice in a small window of time, Hermione forgot where she was and who, exactly, she was with. The woman beside her was no different than Mrs. Weasley at that moment. A woman deprived of female companionship, whispering comical secrets about her husband. She was a woman who was trying in earnest to make the best of an awkward situation, a woman who was reaching out to another and trying to make her feel welcome. She was just a woman, not a Malfoy. Hermione wanted desperately to question her motives for her kindness, but decided it best not to.

If nothing else, Narcissa was tolerable. Life in the Manor would be much easier being on good terms with her.

Hermione smiled softly and watched butterflies flittering about between the flowers; the two women sat peacefully, enjoying the beauty of the rose garden.


	6. Chapter 6: Dinner and Jewelry

The sky had turned pink and orange as the sun sunk below the horizon. The inner courtyard was completely shadowed by the huge wings of the house. Though covered in darkness, the pathways through the garden were lit brightly by hanging glass globes with Fire-Fairies inside of them.

Hermione and Narcissa had sat in silence enjoying the peace and quiet for what felt like hours. The faint pop of a house-elf stirred them both from their thoughts.

"Missus," the small elf before them started, "I is to informs you, dinner be's ready in twenty minutes, Miss." The creature bowed low, her nose almost touching the concrete.

"Thank you, Dexie," Narcissa said as she rose from the bench and turned to Hermione.

The elf vanished with another pop. Hermione was slightly shocked that Narcissa was, though somewhat aloof, not cruel to the elf.

"I'll leave you to get ready, I need to change as well," Narcissa said. She turned from Hermione and began to make her way down the steps into the garden.

"Um… Narcissa- is it alright if I call you Narcissa?" Hermione asked quickly as the woman paused on the steps and turned to face her.

"Of course."

"Um…well… what exactly am I supposed to change into? I mean… well… I didn't know if it was…uhrr…formal and I don't … I don't have my things yet," she said awkwardly.

"One of the gowns in the closet is fine."

"Oh, alright. Thanks," Hermione said, more than a little disappointed at the thought of formal family dinners.

She returned to her room and opened the closet, the chandelier lit. She took a step in and took inventory of what was there. A large, ornate mirror was in the center of the room and dresses and robes lined several of the walls around her. She couldn't tell how many pairs of shoes sat on the racks to her left.

Hermione frowned. She began shifting the gowns around looking for something suitable. She was disappointed to find that the majority of dresses, though beautiful in make, were black. Normally, she wouldn't mind black, but an entire closet of the color only seemed to excavate buried memories of the past: Death Eaters, Dark Lords, mourning clothes, funerals, lonely nights.

She sighed heavily as her frustration mounted. Her dress-flicking became angry and fast.

"Do they not wear sodding colors in this house?" she said aloud.

"Of course they do, dear," a voice said, causing Hermione to shriek and jump away from the rack. She looked around the closet for the source of it.

"What _are_ you doing? Find a dress, it's almost dinnertime," the voice urged.

"Oh!" Hermione exclaimed as she realized whom, or rather what, was speaking to her. "An enchanted mirror!"

"Yes, I am," the mirror replied proudly. "You ought to look further to the back. I believe there are colored gowns on that end."

Hermione walked to the back of the closet, following the wall of clothing. There _were_ colored robes and gowns there, tucked away. Hermione frowned again and pushed roughly through the tinted dresses.

"But…these are all _green_!" She finally said, more annoyed than before. If anything was as bad as, or possibly worse, than black it was, without a doubt, green.

"Green will look lovely on you," the mirror replied merrily.

Hermione rolled her eyes and snatched one of the Slytherin green dresses from the wall. She quickly changed and stepped in front of the mirror.

"See, I told you it would be lovely," the mirror said.

Hermione scoffed and rolled her eyes.

"I take it you didn't notice that I don't _like_ green?" she said as she searched for shoes.

"What's there not to like about green? It's a lovely color, and it suits you."

"I'm stuck with a closet of black and green robes and a cheeky mirror, _lovely_," Hermione muttered. "I'm not wearing these ridiculous heels, aren't there any…simple shoes?" she finally asked.

"Simple?"

"Yes, you know, more comfortable. I _don't_ wear heels," she stated plainly.

"I…there is nothing else _I _would recommend to wear to dinner," the mirror replied.

Hermione narrowed her eyes at it and doubled her search efforts.

"Ah-ha!" she exclaimed after several minutes of digging. She stepped to the center of the closet with the shoes in her hand.

"You can't wear those, it's…it's _scandalous_," the mirror told her obviously offended.

Hermione only smiled in response and began slipping the shoes on. She lifted the hem of the long, green dress to observe them in the mirror.

"That's much better," she said, pleased with her discovery.

"But those are _bed_ slippers!"

"And? You can't see them…" Hermione released the dress hem to prove her point.

"Besides, they're ballet flats. I've heard of girls who wore them to their wedding."

The mirror made a noise that sounded like a gasp.

"This is a travesty to the Wizarding fashion world. I demand you remove those slippers at once," the mirror said to her.

Hermione genuinely smiled.

"You won't cooperate?" the mirror asked. Hermione didn't say anything. "Fine, you wear those slippers, but allow me to pick your jewelry."

"Why?" Hermione said with narrowed eyes, afraid the mirror was up to something.

"If you don't let me pick your jewelry, you'll never hear the end of this slipper debacle and… and I won't tell you a _very_ simple charm to tame that mess that is your hair."

"Alright… fine," she said as she stepped over to the large jewelry case. "Which one?"

"There's a necklace, a silver necklace. On it, is a pendant of a coiled snake with emeralds for eyes."

Hermione sighed. "I don't like green and I _don't_ like snakes."

She removed the necklace anyway and examined it in the glowing chandelier light. It was beautiful, though she'd never openly admit it, and there didn't appear to be anything wrong with it.

"This is the one, then?"

"Yes, that's it. Wear that one."

Hermione unclasped the chain and hooked it around her neck. She adjusted the pendant and observed her reflection.

The mirror chuckled.

"What are you laughing about?" the girl asked uneasily.

"It's a gorgeous piece isn't it?" the mirror replied. "I do say it goes perfectly with that gown. Now, quickly, take your wand and point it at your hair; repeat after me."

Hermione quickly let her bushy hair down and did as she was told.

"_Cincinnus domito_."

Hermione mimicked the mirror and watched her reflection in wonder. Her bushy hair tamed considerably. Large, loopy curls were now discernable and the dullness gave way to a healthy sheen, though the color was still a very boring, mousy brown.

"That's impossible…" she muttered as she ran a finger through her soft curls, not once catching a snag. Nor did she feel the familiar texture of straw when she touched her mane, now it was as smooth as it looked and _almost_ silky to the touch.

"Now, here's another, take your wand and twist it in your hair and say '_Caesaries acervo_'."

Again, Hermione did as she had been told and her eyes widen at the sight before her. Her hair lifted as though by invisible fingers and formed itself into a messy, but very fashionable, chignon on the back of her head.

"I know many more, keep that in mind the next time you want to wear those _dreadful_ slippers."

"How did you… I've searched for ages for spells like those…" she continued examining her hair.

"When you've been around as long as I have, you come to know things; and a very long time ago, a clever Lady of the Manor took it upon herself to create those charms. I don't believe they'd be widely know," the mirror told her.

Before Hermione could ask any more questions, a pop filled the air and a small elf appeared behind her.

"They is 'spectin you in the dinin' room, Miss," the little elf told her. This elf was younger and smaller than the one that had summoned Narcissa on the terrace.

"Oh, what's your name?" she asked the creature, who looked at her quizzically.

"Tis Dettie, Miss. The Master made Dettie your personal elf," the thing almost sounded afraid, as though she expected punishment.

"Alright, thank you, Dettie. I'm Hermione," she smiled warmly at the elf. She chose not to acknowledge the creature being _given _to her. She didn't know what to say at that point to not offend it, though she certainly did not see the poor thing as an object that could just be handed between people.

The little creature returned her smile and it's eyes glistened with tears, having never been treated so kindly by a master before.

"I don't think I know where the dining room is, could you show me, Dettie?" Hermione asked the house-elf.

"Oh, yes, of course, Miss," the elf said as it quickly brushed away the stray tears and hurried out of the closet, into the bedroom.

Hermione followed. The elf led her back to the main entry and stopped. It pointed a small hand to the right of the stairs, down another corridor.

"The dinin' room's that way, Miss," she said with a bow.

"Thank you, Dettie," Hermione said and started down the hall

The room was easier to find than she had expected, all she had to do was listen for Narcissa's high-pitched laugh and the deep, rumbling voices of Draco and Lucius. She stepped into the doorway and saw they were all seated, waiting for her. She felt extremely awkward with all three sets of eyes upon her. She never had her hair fixed so nicely and never wore such expensive gowns or jewelry. In fact, she rarely wore dresses and she felt quite uncomfortable under such scrutiny.

"I'm sorry, I…had trouble…deciding on what to wear," she said almost inaudibly as she took a seat across from Lucius and Narcissa. Draco sat to her left, at the head of the table, but still didn't speak to her.

Once she was settled, she looked up to two staring faces.

Lucius was staring at her with wide eyes and a broad grin before he burst into loud guffawing. Hermione narrowed her eyes at him and pursed her lips.

She looked to Narcissa. That one was staring at her as well, but she wasn't laughing; her face reflected shock and fear. Hermione looked between the two of them, Lucius still chuckling and Narcissa gaping, until she couldn't stand it another second.

"What are _you_ laughing at?" she said viciously to Lucius before looking to Narcissa, her tone lost all its venom as she addressed the other woman, "And why are you staring at me like that? What's _wrong_?"

Lucius stopped laughing but his smirk remained in place. He looked to Draco and sniggered lightly before directing his full attention to his half-empty wine glass, which seemed to amuse him greatly because he continued smiling at it.

Narcissa opened her mouth to speak but closed it again. She lifted one hand to her neck and glanced to her son; almost unnoticeably, he shook his head at her, instructing her to keep quiet.

_The necklace_, Hermione thought angrily as she reached up and touched it, _that damned mirror __**was**__ up to something_.

"What's wrong with it?" she asked, not having seen Draco's response to his mother.

Neither of the men answered her and Narcissa avoided her eyes. Hermione huffed angrily and clenched her jaw.

The food appeared before them and they ate in relative silence. The two men purposefully ignored Hermione and conversed between themselves; even if they hadn't, she was now determined to overlook the existence of them both. When she finished eating, she placed her embroidered satin napkin on the table and left angrily; she did not see the glare Narcissa shot at the two Malfoy men nor did she hear the heated conversation that followed her exit.

She hurried back to her room and stripped off the heavy green dress, leaving it in a rumpled pile on the floor, and replaced it with one of the many skimpy satin nightgowns, if they could be called that, from her wardrobe. She wished at that moment, feeling very exposed, that she had had Draco take her by her apartment after she went to Harry's office.

_What a day_, she thought as she entered her study.

She went directly to the desk in the room and sat down to compose three letters; one to Harry and Ginny, one to Remus and Tonks, the last to Mrs. Weasley, she didn't want the woman to worry unnecessarily. When she was satisfied with the three parchments, she sealed them and left them on the desk, reminding herself to send them first thing in the morning.

She rose from the chair and her eyes fell on the couch and the book she had so desperately wanted to read before. She curled up on the soft sofa with the tome in hand. The fire crackled loudly and Hermione felt pleasantly warm.

Within the pages of the old book, Hermione lost herself and forgot entirely about the events of the day; the house she was sitting in; the man she was meant to marry, who would sleep across the hall from her; and the silver chain around her neck. Sometime later, as the moon crept high in the night sky, she drifted into a peaceful sleep there in front of the fire.

* * *

Hermione awoke as the sun drifted in through the sheer curtains of the study. She sat up abruptly and looked around the room in momentary fright.

_Where the hell am I_, was the first thought that crossed her mind before her memories kicked in and realization hit her.

She groaned and rolled off the couch, her back and neck were stiff from spending the night curled on the sofa. She made her way into her bedroom and noticed the dress was no longer piled on the floor.

_Poor elves, always working_, she thought dejectedly as she went to her bathroom.

The room lit up and the girl went about her normal morning routines before she took a good look at herself in the mirror. The first thing she noticed was soft, shiny curls framing her face; it was still a shocking sight. The second thing she noticed was the silver chain and pendant hanging from her neck.

_Bugger, I shouldn't have slept in that, I'd hate to ruin the chain_, she thought as she reached up to remove the necklace.

She felt around the chain for the clasp. She couldn't find it. Panicking slightly, she watched in the mirror as she spun the chain fully around her neck. There was no clasp. No clasp at all. The chain was completely solid and far too small to slip over her head.

Anger began to replace her panic and fear. She slammed the closet door open and stood in front of the mirror, her hands on her hips and her eyes blazing with fury.

"_How_ do I get this damned thing off?" she demanded of the mirror.

The mirror was silent a moment before answering.

"Oh dear! I believe that was the wrong necklace to have you wear," the mirror said in unconvincing alarm.

Hermione's eyes widened and she approached the mirror slowly as she said in a deadly voice, "Explain."

"I believe that's a family heirloom; it has old magic tied to it. You'd best speak with the Lord of the Manor about removing it."

Hermione raised her wand at the mirror; her hand shook violently as a mantra of '_Reducto_' coursed through her mind. Even so, she managed to calm down and not shatter the blasted thing.

She turned to run from her room, swung open the door and froze as the chilled air in the corridor caressed her warm skin. She looked down and saw goose bumps all over her very exposed body. She quickly shut the door; she was thankful no one had been in the hall to see her.

She stepped back into the closet and began flicking through clothes on a different wall. She pulled forth the garment she had been looking for and examined it with distaste. She slipped it on anyway and glanced in the mirror. Her thin figure was draped in the too-large, green, silk and sheer robe. The slick material clung to her body and her arms and legs were vaguely visible through the sheer fabric; but she was far too angry to care properly, it would have to do. She found the black bed slippers she had worn the night before and once again ventured into the cold corridor. The expensive material did little to provide warmth but it wasn't being cold that truly concerned her.

She crossed the hall purposefully and banged with all her might on what she presumed was Draco's bedroom door. After several minutes, she decided he was either ignoring her or he wasn't in the room. She'd find out either way. If he was ignoring her, he'd be _very _sorry, she thought angrily as she quickly took off for the dining room.

She honestly had no idea where to look for him; he could be anywhere. She rapidly realized how frustratingly large Malfoy Manor was. The dining room was empty; the sitting room, where he had tea with his mother, was empty; she presumed his room was empty.

She stopped in one of the large hallways and leaned against the green wall. She rubbed her temples, trying to relieve some of the tension and anger she felt.

"What's the matter, darling?" a male voice asked.

She looked back and forth down the hall; it was completely empty, aside from her. She creased her brows and leaned her head back against the wall.

There across the hall from her in one of the many portraits stood a man, a man that looked remarkably like both Lucius and Draco. He smiled at her expectantly.

She couldn't help but smile back, obviously the portraits hadn't been informed of her blood-status. She couldn't resist the opportunity to cause a little mischief. She grinned from ear to ear at the thought of the portrait inhabitants making their way through the entire house shouting and screaming at the Malfoys, calling them blood-traitors and Muggle lovers- an image of Mrs. Black stood out in her mind.

"Do you know who I am?" she asked the painted man sweetly.

"Of course I do, darling," he replied with an equally sweet smile.

"Oh? And who am I?"

He looked around him and leaned closer to the front of the canvas.

"You're my grandson's fiancé," he said in a whisper.

Hermione's mouth sagged open.

"_You're_ Abraxas Malfoy?" Hermione had heard many things about the man during her tenure at the Ministry.

"I am," he stated plainly.

"What? That's all you have to say? Do you know where I come from?" Hermione was completely stunned; it appeared any mischief making was out of the question.

"Indeed, I do."

"_What? _And it's just like that? You don't have anything to say about it? You aren't going to run through portraits screaming and cursing? You aren't going to demand I leave the house immediately?"

"I know why you're here. And I know Narcissa thinks well enough of you, that's enough for me."

"Come again?" Hermione asked him, disbelieving.

"I hold that woman's opinion in high regard. She is sharper than she looks. Sharper than my own flesh and blood it would seem at times," he said bitterly.

Hermione could only stare at the man in the picture with a look of utter confusion on her face.

"Now, why are you moping in this hall?" he asked her.

"Oh, yes… I forgot…I'm trying to find Draco, I need to speak with him."

"Well, why didn't you just ask? He's in his study, dear." The man beamed at her before walking out of his portrait.

As she headed for the study, Hermione thought of Alice; she thought she was beginning to understand what the poor girl went through when she entered Wonderland, only that fateful Floo in the study had been Hermione's rabbit hole.

_Curiouser and curiouser_, she thought.

She reached the study and stood facing the double doors. The dark wood gleamed at her menacingly. She reached for the pendant around her neck and felt her anger begin to boil again.

She balled her hand into a fist and banged on the door, hard.

She heard angry muttering from the other side.

The door swung open to reveal a disheveled looking Draco. He was wearing his normal black attire, but his short hair looked as though either his or another's hands had been vandalizing it. He saw her and something quickly passed across his features. He rapidly changed from looking angry, to nervous. Hermione narrowed her eyes at him but didn't waver from her stance.

"What do you want?" he finally asked tartly, the first words he'd spoken to her since the previous day at the Ministry.

He glanced over his shoulder quickly and Hermione heard the fireplace flare from Floo powder.

She snorted at him and rolled her eyes, feeling an uncharacteristic flare of jealousy at her assumptions.

"Do I have to stand in the hall now that your _visitor_ is gone?" she demanded.

Reluctantly he opened the door for her to enter, glaring at the top of her head all the while. Cigar smoke hung heavily in the room and she tried to restrain herself from coughing.

With a hand covering her nose and mouth, she withdrew her wand and waved it while whispering, '_Abdio fumeo_'. The air instantly cleared and became breathable.

She heard the door latch behind her and turned to face Draco. He too was facing her. While she looked at him with anger and impatience, he quickly took in her appearance. A smirk crossed his lips and he raised an eyebrow appreciatively.

"I love your choice of attire, _darling_," he said mockingly.

Her eyes widened. With one hand she grasped the robe and pulled it tighter around her, though it did little to cover her any better. With her other, she pointed her wand at him threateningly. He, however, was unperturbed and crossed the room to where she stood. The tip of her wand touched his chest; it was aimed directly at his heart.

She frowned and lowered it.

"What do you want?" he asked her again with slightly less venom.

"Who was here?"

"What are you talking about? No one was here."

She gave him a look that all but said I'm-not-stupid-so-don't-treat-me-like-I-am.

He only glared at her in response.

"Shall I make my suggestion? I say it was Miss Scarlett with the revolver in the study," she said, looking at him wryly.

"_What_? Revolver? _Who_ is Miss Scarlett?" Draco asked in complete puzzlement.

"Just…_oh_ _never mind_, Malfoy," Hermione said angrily; she was rather proud of her joke and disappointed it had been wasted on his Muggle-ignorant self.

"Look, I'm not as daft as you clearly think I am. There are two cigar butts here recently stubbed, there are two brandy glasses on the table as well, and I heard the Floo powder ignite in the fireplace…"

She frowned, that was all she had; though, in her mind it was more than enough evidence to make her case.

He was still scowling and looking slightly confused, clearly still hung up on her comment about Miss Scarlett and the revolver.

"Maybe I just like cigars and brandy," he said after several moments, comprehending what she had said, finally.

She openly gaped at him; did he honestly think she'd buy that?

"Alright, don't tell me. Whatever."

"Are you jealous, Granger?" he accused her.

She could smell the alcohol on his breath. She rolled her eyes at him again and reached for the chain. She removed the necklace and pendant from beneath her robe.

"Take it off," she said, her tone was cold but her eyes were pleading.

He smiled down at her wickedly.

"I can't," he stated and reached for the silver ornament, he turned it over in his long fingers before releasing it. It hit her breastbone with a hollow thump.

"Wha…what do you _mean_…why can't you?"

His smirk returned and his eyes met hers.

"Only your husband can remove it."

"_What_!" she screamed at him. He flinched slightly.

"I can't remove it for another month…_if_ I decide to then."

"Why you little…" She raised her wand and shoved the tip into his chest again; she knew it had to hurt.

He reached down and clasped her small fist, clutching the wand, with his own and forced her arm back to her side. He closed the distance between them and looked down at her menacingly. She shivered at his aggressive touch.

"What, Granger? What am I?" His voice has low and intimidating, it brought forth the response he desired.

She withdrew slightly from anger and fear. She pulled her hand but he only squeezed harder, which was tight enough to be painful. She tried to step back from him but his other arm was already grasping her shoulder and holding her firmly in place.

"Let me go," she whispered, her voice revealed the panic she felt.

"Don't you want to know _why_ you should want that necklace off?" he asked her, in an equal whisper.

She was breathing quickly and her eyes were wide and dilated from fear.

"Why?"

He smiled again, a terrifying, fear-inducing smile.

He was reveling in the terror he was able to press upon her so easily. She _truly_ was scared of him. She had no real reason to be; though he would never actually hurt her, it amused him to no end to have the brave, Gryffindor princess quaking in fear under his grasp and gaze.

He looked at her carefully; she looked on the verge of tears and she was trembling. He loosed her fist and shoulder but gently took her wand with him as he stepped away from her and sat on the green sofa.

He looked up at her still standing and shaking and rolled his eyes.

"_Sit_ down. Aren't you supposed to be brave and fearless," he teased. She sat, as far as possible, away from him. "It's a family heirloom, controlled by old magic. It can't be undone and the chain can't be broken."

His eyes met hers for a moment before he looked at her wand in his hand. He waved it experimentally at the ash tray on the table. When nothing happened, he began twirling it around in his fingers.

"You can't leave the grounds until it's removed…_if_ it is removed." He looked to her face to see her response; he couldn't hide the anticipating smirk that crept onto his face. He was aptly rewarded, her eyes had widened again and her mouth formed an O.

"Please tell me you're joking," she said. He shook his head at her. "I'm trapped here? I'm a prisoner?"

"You're a prisoner of your own doing. _I _certainly didn't put that on you, and I know you can't blame my father because he was at the table with me when you were getting dressed."

"No, but you put it in my room, didn't you? You told that damned mirror to have me wear it!"

He glared at her. "I did no such thing! I haven't seen that blasted necklace in fifteen years."

"Well, who had it then?!"

He smirked and went back to twirling her wand.

"_Malfoy_!"

He looked up and met her gaze, the smirk had widened and he looked wholly amused.

"My father."


	7. Chapter 7: Anger and Embarrassment

"What!" Hermione shrieked at him. "You _just_ said I couldn't blame your father!"

She opened her mouth to continue her outburst but before she could, he pointed her wand at her and wordlessly cast _Silencio_. She glared at him out of anger and confusion. She never expected the stick to work for him. She made for her wand but he held it out of her reach.

"I said _you_ put the necklace on yourself. You can't blame my father _or_ me for putting it on you. He may have put it in your room," she opened her mouth to reply but he gave her a patronizing look, "but _you_ are solely responsible for it being around your neck."

She crossed her arms indignantly and glared at him.

"Now, can you speak without yelling?"

She was fuming; she wanted to gouge his damned icy, blue eyes from his blonde head. Instead, she nodded and smiled sweetly. He raised a brow and looked at her knowingly. She rolled her eyes and nodded again impatiently.

"_Finite incantatem_."

"I'm going to _murder_ you, Draco Malfoy," she said low and treacherously.

She dove for his neck, both hands outstretched. He caught both wrists in midair before she was even a real danger to him or his unblemished throat_. _

_Damn those seeker reflexes_, she thought angrily.

She growled at him, sounding uncannily like a bobcat.

"I would never have thought it, but you're more violent than me _or_ my father, Granger," he said in a serious tone without releasing her wrists; however, his lips and eyes betrayed his voice, his amusement was clearly displayed on his face.

"I _loathe_ you," she spat. Her eyes practically blazed with her anger. Her chest rose heavily from her deep, livid breaths. She flailed her arms violently in a futile attempt to free herself.

"I know, darling." He smiled at her, trying to ruffle her feathers more.

"I _detest_ the ground you walk on and the air you breathe. You are a _pathetic _excuse of aman!!"

"Now, now, that's no way to speak to your fiancé, Granger." He looked at her mockingly as though hurt.

She sighed and slumped against the back of the sofa. He had released her wrists as soon as she backed down.

"I need my things from my flat."

He frowned. "What do you need from there?"

"Bloody hell, _Malfoy_. I dunno… my clothes, my pictures and books, _my cat_!"

He looked away from her eyes and smirked at her robe again.

"How will you return the favor?" He asked her insolently.

She jerked her hand to slap him only to find her wrist firmly in his grasp again.

"You know, green suits you, love. It really brings out your inner Slytherin."

She could only glare at him furiously. "Release me, you…you _cad_."

He frowned at that moniker and released her wrists. Before he could act, she punched his right arm as hard as she could. He rubbed it instinctively and glared at her.

"_That_ is for all the _cheeky_ comments. And stop calling me love and darling, or I swear… I will hex you so bad you won't remember your own name."

"_Obliviate_ is a charm, not a hex, _sweetheart_."

She rose from the couch, giving him one final scathing glare, before she stormed from the room.

After the door slammed shut, he stretched out on the sofa and laughed heartily to himself. He was in a better mood than he had been in…months. Annoying Granger was infinitely more fun than he had ever imagined it could be. She had such wonderfully large, neon colored buttons to push. She was so easy. Hell, it was more fun than it had been during their school days.

He continued to smile as he looked to his hands and twirled her wand in his fingers. He felt the smooth heat of the alcohol coursing through his veins and he quickly drifted to sleep.

* * *

When Hermione returned to the study an hour later, wearing the clothes she had worn to work the previous day, she found Malfoy stretched on the couch, sleeping. She approached him quietly, annoyed that he decided to take a nap when she needed her things. Crookshanks was no doubt gone mad from hunger. She studied Malfoy's sleeping form, and then she narrowed her eyes when she saw her wand held lightly in his hand, resting on his chest.

She reached down slowly and silently. When her fingers made contact with the wood, she yanked it free of his fingers. Almost instantaneously, the man's other arm shot up and clamped down on her wrist and his eyes opened.

He exhaled and relaxed when he realized who it was.

"You know, I'm beginning to think you _like_ touching a _Mudblood_ with all this grabbing you do."

He glared at her and released her wrist like it had scorched him. He sat up slowly and rubbed his tired eyes to try to wake up. He hadn't had a good night's sleep in months, possibly years. He was always on edge; his nerves were completely frazzled. The slightest noise would have him sitting up in bed, wide-awake. Paranoia and fear were capable of overriding his natural instincts no matter how exhausted he may have been.

"It's not like I have much choice anymore, is it?" he asked bitterly after several moments.

"What are you on about _now_?"

"Touching you, you should be proud of yourself. A person of _your_ birth engaged to _me_. I really have no choice anymore. I'm still a man, I have my needs."

"What are you _talking_ about, Malfoy?"

"Did you not read the documents you signed yesterday?" he asked her angrily.

"Of course I did," she paused before adding, "I read mine anyway. I didn't read yours. I didn't think they were different."

He rolled his eyes, "Well, that must've been a first. You not reading something so you could know _everything_."

"Piss-off, Malfoy." Hermione glared at him.

"You know regardless of whether you like it or not, you're _mine _now, Granger. You need to get used to it."

"In your dreams," she replied angrily. "I belong to no man."

"You're wrong there." He smirked at her as he stood to his full height and looked down at her. "Or did you forget about that lovely piece of jewelry hanging from your neck," he touched the pendant with the tip of his index finger, "and the fact that, technically, you are my prisoner for as long as I like." He leaned in closer to her. His breath, still stinking of alcohol, was warm on her cheek. She could see the details of his irises: light blue fading into icy silver around the alcohol-dilated pupils. "You _are_ mine."

"I take it you haven't been to my flat yet?" Hermione said heatedly as she moved from him to stand by the fireplace; she didn't know where he had been taking the conversation but she deftly changed the subject to avoid its destination.

Draco rolled his eyes. Annoying her was deliciously fun, but at the same time she could be the most exasperating person that had ever had the pleasure of breathing, _especially_ in Malfoy Manor. Anyone else possessing an attitude and mouth such as she would have been _Crucio'd_ to within an inch of their life and then unceremoniously tossed out on their arse or _Avada'd_ without a second thought. She irritated him to no end.

"_No_, I haven't been and I _won't_ be," he said as he moved to the large desk and took a seat behind it.

"Malfoy!"

"_Damn it_, Granger! Enough with the screeching like a Banshee! I can't _take it_ this early in the day. Send a house-elf."

"Wha…bu…you…," she spluttered.

He sighed exasperatedly and called for an elf.

Hermione reluctantly gave the small creature her address and told it of all the things she needed. When it Apparated away, she sat on the green sofa again and waited in silence. After what felt like hours, but had only been ten minutes, the elf returned to the room.

"Is all in your room, Miss, and the creature is loose in the rose garden," the elf told her.

"What? What creature?" she asked in confusion.

"The _evil_, orange creature, Miss."

Hermione frowned when she heard Draco's snort of laughter.

"That's Crookshanks and he's a cat."

"Yes, Miss," the elf vanished.

She glared over her shoulder at Malfoy.

"You have what you wanted, now leave," he said with an imperial wave of his hand and without looking up from his parchments.

Hermione gaped at him in disbelief before she stormed from the room, making sure to slam the door on her way out. She went back to her chambers, furious at the one man who had always managed to make her life miserable. He was the only person in the world that had ever been able to read her so easily and instinctively know her weak spots. She locked herself in her room and a single, angry tear trailed down her cheek. She quickly brushed it away.

Her two paltry boxes were sitting in front of her bed, along with her trunk, which held all of her clothes. The chair from her living room, which she had insisted come, was missing; however, further investigation found it in the study.

She sunk onto her bed and wanted to vanish. She wished she could disappear to Harry and Ginny's, like days from happier times when she could spend the evening laughing and chatting with her friends.

_Harry and Ginny_, the thought reminded her of something else, _the letters_.

She jumped from the bed and fetched the sealed envelopes from her desk but upon reentering her bedroom, she realized she hadn't an owl and didn't know where to find one.

Though it strained her conscious, she did the only thing she could think of.

"Dettie," she said.

The elf appeared before her; eager to help her Mistress however she was needed.

"Can Dettie do something for you, Miss?"

"Yes, please, I need these letters owl'd out because I don't have an owl and I don't want to ask Malfoy. Can you do that for me?"

"Of course, this would make Dettie _very_ happy." She took the letters from Hermione and vanished, leaving her alone with her thoughts once again.

She checked the time and found that it was after lunch already. The day seemed to be creeping by. She decided to waste as much time as possible in her rooms and unpacked all of her things. When that was done, she attacked her closet with a vengeance. After several tedious hours, Hermione stood back and smiled proudly.

She had altered the color of a good deal of the robes and gowns. There were still greens and blacks, probably the majority, but there were a larger variety of colors. She was satisfied with her work.

Stretching her aching muscles, she decided at that moment, she wanted nothing more than to stretch out in her favorite chair and take a nap. She'd figure out how to make Draco Malfoy's life hell later.

* * *

Hermione awoke from her serene dreams and found her study bathed in the warm hues of the setting sun. She blinked her eyes and looked around; nothing looked any different than she had left it when she fell asleep. However, something woke her. She sat in her soft recliner trying to remember what exactly it was, when she heard it again. She smiled to herself.

"While I nodded, nearly napping, suddenly there came a tapping, as of some one gently rapping, rapping at my… _study_ door," she said with a smile as she rose and crossed the room to the French doors. She swung the doors open and was greeted by a flutter of snowy feathers.

"Hedwig! How are?"

The owl landed on the desk chair and hooted at Hermione happily. She extended her leg to the woman, revealing the letter that was tied there.

"Thanks," Hermione said as she took the parchment and frowned as she realized she had nothing for the bird. "I'm sorry, Hedwig, I don't have any treats for you. If you wait though, I'll send a letter to Harry and have him give you extras." The owl hooted again. She sat and opened the letter to read.

_Hermione,_

_How are you? I hope everything is ok there. He isn't treating you badly is he? Please let us know if he is. How are things? Will you be in to the Ministry any next week? Everything is fine here. Ginny is feeling great. Ron is still pretty upset about you going. We're all worried about you. Please write again soon._

_Love, _

Harry and Ginny

Hermione sighed and moved to her desk to write a hurried response.

_Harry,_

I'm fine, a little lonely and angry, but fine. Everything is all right here so far. I haven't been hexed or cursed if that's what you're asking.

Malfoy has avoided me like the Black Plague since I arrived yesterday. I spoke to him for the first time this morning and he was, of course, his usual delightful self, always the charmer. There's nothing special to tell you yet. Narcissa has been exceptionally nice. I can't tell if it's real or a ruse, but I'm hoping it's not an act.

If Ginny is feeling well, maybe she can Floo here and see me some time this week.

I couldn't really care less how Ron feels; if anything, I'm pleased I've caused him some unhappiness, he deserves it. And don't worry, Harry, I'll be fine.

There's one other thing you should know though, last night I had dinner with the Malfoys and there was a misunderstanding with a piece of jewelry. Please don't panic or worry, it's really not that bad. Apparently, the piece is cursed or something. I didn't know and I put it on. It turns out only my husband can remove it and I won't be married for another month. The thing about it is that I can't leave the Manor so long as I'm wearing it.

So, no, I won't be in to the Ministry any this week, or any week in the near future for that matter. Maybe you can stop by and see me one day and we'll chat.

_I love you both,_

Hermione

Satisfied with the letter, Hermione started to fold it to give to Hedwig, who hooted at her.

"Oh, sorry, I forgot," she said as she opened the letter to add a postscript. She thought a moment about her earlier encounter with Malfoy and something he had said. She remembered she wanted to find out why he had mentioned the contracts.

_PS – Give Hedwig an extra treat for me, I have none for her._

_PPS – Please have Kingsley send me a copy of both Malfoy's contract and mine. I need to look into something he mentioned. Thanks Harry._

She folded the letter and tied it to Hedwig's leg. The owl hooted one last time and took flight through the open terrace doors. Hermione looked around the room for something to keep her busy. Unfortunately, she felt like she had done everything she had needed to do.

She went to the bathroom, drew a hot bath, and filled it with her bath oils. The beautiful fragrances of jasmine and gardenia filled the room. It reminded Hermione of her childhood, playing in her mother's garden during the summer. She fought back the tears that threatened to rise. She slipped into the tub and let the warm water penetrate her pores, rejuvenating her body and mind.

After a very relaxing bath, Hermione looked disappointedly at her freshly washed locks. They had returned to their natural state: exceptionally frizzy and a tad on the dull and lifeless side. She sighed and waived her wand. When her hair smoothed out into large, shiny curls, she was extremely happy, mainly because she had remembered the charm on her own. She crossed her room to the large wardrobe and opened the drawer she had put her bedclothes in.

She frowned.

"Well that's not right," she said as she ruffled through the drawers of her wardrobe. "I know I put them in here," she muttered.

She dug and dug but could not find what she was looking for: her unflattering Muggle pajamas. They had vanished without a trace; they were missing in action. She sighed heavily and opened the drawer she knew contained those detestably meager and seductive nightgowns. She snarled as she drew forth one. It was slightly better than the one from the previous night, but nowhere near her very prudent liking. She slipped the floor length green satin gown on.

_Sure, it's expensive, slinky, and soft on the skin. It's rather comfortable, so long as no one is around to see it. But for the love of Merlin, it's __**green**__. Why green? Surely, Malfoy is doing this to torture me, _she thought dryly as she examined the gown in her bathroom mirror.

She was avoiding the wretched _thing_ in her closet. She had tossed a black cloak over it earlier in the day but returned only to find the cloak missing and the mirror rambling angrily. She stepped into the mentioned closet and lifted the sheer and satin robe she had worn that morning from the dressing stool. She had just slipped it on when a pop in her bedroom drew her out.

Dettie stood at the foot of Hermione's bed waiting.

"Miss, dinner is ready. The Master requests you there," she said anxiously, wringing her hands and looking fearfully at her mistress's attire.

"I'm sorry, Dettie, I'm not hungry right now. I won't be joining them for dinner tonight. I'll get something later."

The elf squeaked in terror and her eyes grew wide.

"But Miss, the Master will be so ang-"

"You can tell Draco Malfoy I'm _not_ having dinner with him, if he has a problem with it he can kiss my arse," she said while walking into her study.

She heard the poor creature whimper before it disappeared with another pop.

She suddenly felt horrible. It wasn't Dettie's fault she hated Malfoy. She really shouldn't have snapped. No doubt, Malfoy would yell at her simply for being the messenger.

She sighed, the guilt weighing heavily on her mind.

She'd have to apologize as soon as she saw the elf again. Without the enthusiasm she had previously, she perused for reading material and then sat on the sofa before the fire.

* * *

In the dining room, which held more than the Malfoys at that moment, the small elf appeared beside her master and whispered something to him. His face grew dark and he hissed, "_What_?"

The elf trembled in fear and repeated in a whisper, "She says she won't have dinner with the Master and he can-"

"Yes, I heard _that_ part the first time," he said angrily as he rose from the table, tossed his silver dinner napkin down and stormed from the room.

Everyone at the table sat in silence, Narcissa from fear and anxiety over her son's reaction. All the others, however, held their breath waiting for the fireworks and explosions to start as the youngest Malfoy and his betrothed launched into a full-fledged war; they knew it was coming, or hoped rather.

* * *

Hermione jumped as her bedroom door suddenly came violently to life as it was pounded on furiously. She ran to her bedroom and looked at it.

"Open the door, Granger," she heard him say in a low voice outside of her door. She wouldn't admit it, but she was terrified at that moment.

"Go away, Malfoy. I don't want to eat with you tonight."

The hall was silent.

Then, she heard him whispering and hissing. The latch of her door clicked and the treacherous thing swung open, revealing a very livid young man. He stepped in and slammed the door so hard she was sure she heard it splinter. Instinctually, she started backing into the study.

He advanced on her slowly, like a panther closing in on a cornered rabbit.

"Please, go…" she managed to whisper.

"How _dare_ you."

She only looked at him, her throat felt constricted.

"Do you realize, you have humiliated me in front of my guests?"

"Guests? What guests, Malfoy?"

"My dinner guests, you filthy…Mu- gaarh!" He yelled.

He couldn't say it; he had magiced himself from saying it because he knew he would falter. She could say it, but if he so much as whispered the word, the contract was nullified. Therefore, he improvised, "Stubborn, uncouth, _hideous_ woman!"

"They are _your_ dinner guests. Not mine. Go and have dinner with them."

The lioness emerged with her red and gold banner, pride and stubbornness at her side.

"You _will_ come to dinner."

"I won't. You'll only be embarrassing yourself more by trying to force me."

_Bugger_, she thought as her bum touched the sofa behind her.

She _had_ backed herself into a corner, but there was no way she'd play the rabbit. Her blasted wand was on her bathroom counter where she left it earlier. He was a foot from her and she braced herself for the curse, or possibly even slap, that would come her way for behaving as she was.

"It's the principle of the matter now, Granger," he whispered.

She gaped at him.

"What, you have to prove to your Death Eater friends that you have control over your fiancé?" she snapped spitefully.

"Something like that."

She smirked at him. He was taken aback She wasn't supposed to smirk at him like that. Those annoying Gryffindor traits had finally reared their ugly heads.

"All right, Malfoy. Let's go show the boys who's in control, shall we?" She pushed passed him, all thoughts of etiquette and proper conduct evaporated from her consciousness.

She was in the hall walking vigorously in the direction of the dining room when he caught her and snatched her around by her shoulder.

"You are _not_ going to the dining room in _that_."

She wasn't entirely worried about her attire, the nightgown and robe revealed virtually nothing; but her anger had pushed aside rational thought and she hadn't really considered the situation fully. Though, if she had, she still would have continued on her course, simply for the chance to embarrass the hateful man before her.

"Of course I am, unless you plan to change me yourself. I promise you, by the time you accomplish _that_ your guests will be long gone. And need I mention it would involve quite a bit of touching of _dirty_ flesh?!"

She reached up and fiercely pushed his hand from her shoulder before continuing her march to the dining room.

He closed his eyes and ran his hands through his hair. "She's impossible. I'm going to _kill_ her," he muttered before following after her.

* * *

Hermione opened the double doors to the dining room. The sight before her stopped her in her tracks. Her mouth hung open in shock and her mind went blank. Both parties, those at the door and those at the table, stared at each other in shock.

Before Hermione, she saw six people she had hoped to never again see in her life: Blaise Zabini, Theodore Nott, Lucius Malfoy, Rodolphus Lestrange, Marcus Flint, and Gregory Goyle.

Narcissa sat at Lucius' side, her head propped on her arm, leaning on the table, looking utterly put out by her present company. No one spoke.

"My…what a…_crew_ you have here, Malfoy," she said to the man standing inches behind her.

"Indeed. Gentlemen, you all remember Hermione Granger, don't you?" He said over her shoulder, she could hear the sneer in his voice.

The men all nodded in response but none spoke. Lucius Malfoy grinned at her maliciously.

_Grinning like the Cheshire cat_, Hermione thought, if only she could slap that grin from his face.

Then realization dawned on her, she felt her cheeks flush as she remembered she was improperly dressed.

"Narcissa, may I have a word in the hall, please?" she said before stepping away from the doors, hiding herself behind them. She heard the woman's chair slide away from the table and her heeled feet traveling to the door. As soon as she had exited the room, Hermione grasped both handles.

"Excuse us a moment, _gentle_men," she said as she pulled the doors shut.

Draco was seething with anger. He despised the woman before him, her back still to him like he wasn't even there.

He reached up and wrapped his long fingers around her throat. She leaned back into his shoulder and turned her head to his. Inches apart, she angrily looked up to his scowling face. His eyes were narrowed at her and his lips parted to reveal his clenched teeth; he was all but growling like a rabid dog.

"Do it," she hissed.

He returned her stare; his eyes could have burned holes into her from the anger flaming within them.

"Arrgh!" he yelled in frustration through his teeth; he released her neck and began pacing in front of the double doors, his hands running through his flaxen hair.

Hermione raised her brows at him and turned her attention to the other woman in the hall.

"Narcissa, I wonder if you would like to join me for dinner in my room tonight. Let the boys have their…" she paused and glanced over her shoulder at Draco, she sneered at him, "_bonding_ time."

He stopped his pacing and looked at her murderously.

"I think that sounds lovely," the elder woman replied, eager to escape yet another dull dinner party with her son and husband's 'friends'.

Draco's head snapped to his mother's and met her eyes.

"Mother…wha…you…" he stammered, shocked.

"Yes, darling?" she asked innocently.

"You…but…"

"_Yes_, dear?" she asked again.

"You're siding with _her_?!" he bellowed, finally finding his words.

"There are no sides, dear. After all, we're the only women here; we have no business with your friends. Enjoy your dinner, sweetheart," she said. She approached him, leaned up and gave him a kiss on the cheek before turning to Hermione.

"Fine! Go! Get the hell out of my sight!" he yelled furiously.

Hermione frowned at him as she linked an arm with Narcissa.

"Now, Draco, that's no way to talk to your mother," she said.

She gave him a wink and blew him a kiss. The two women started down the hall, away from the dining room.

* * *

He stood and watched them walking away from him; their heads leaned together and something was whispered between them. He fumed. Never had he been treated in such a way in his own house. He had not been disrespected in such a manner in…years.

Here he stood, a dangerous man on his own, outside a room where sat six other exceedingly dangerous men, all Death Eaters and dark wizards. There he stood, capable of unknown evils, and he had been defied and admonished by two _women_. One of which was a Mudblood; the other, though it was the first time for such behavior from her, could get away with it.

The pure blood coursing his veins boiled with fury.

He opened one of the doors, stepped into the dining room and slammed the door behind him. All the men within ceased their conversation and looked to him. His brow was furrowed and his eyes were shadowed; his jaw was set and a bead of sweat trickled from his hairline down the side of his face, to his neck. He clenched his fists tightly at his sides.

All knew that were afore mentioned Mudblood not protected by a magical contract, she would have been writhing and screaming in pain on the hall floor under the torture of the _Cruciatus_ curse. Draco was exceedingly capable of casting and maintaining an excruciating version of _that_ Unforgivable.

He looked to the men seated around the table.

"Draco, I have a question," the dark haired man at the far end of the table said.

"_What_, Zabini?"

The Latin man grinned at him impishly.

"Does she always prance around dressed like that?" This brought forth the raucous laughter of all the men gathered, save one; and his irate looks shut them up fast enough.

"Nott, I want you to look over that contract for me. _Find_ me a loophole."

Nott nodded to the angry man.

Yes, the little witch would pay, one way or another, for the humiliation and insolence she had shown him.

* * *

Hermione winked at him and blew him a kiss. She _so_ loved infuriating him. She turned to Narcissa and the two women started away from the dining room. Narcissa leaned her head towards Hermione.

"This will be so fun," Narcissa whispered to her suddenly. "It's been _so_ long since I've had a girl's night."

Hermione heard Draco open the dining room door and enter; the slam echoed through the house. She smiled victoriously to herself.

She looked to the older woman at her side, "I couldn't agree more."

**AN: _I want to thank everyone that has left a review, I really appreciate it. I'm not one who usually leaves notes or long ones at that so on with the story. :)_**


	8. Chapter 8: Drinks and Wagers

Hermione and Narcissa sat on the floor in front of the fire in Hermione's study. The two women had a tray of empty plates sitting before them, the remnants of their rug-picnic.

Of the three wine bottles they had requested from the kitchen for dinner, two were bone-dry and the third was half drained.

With neither woman having been a regular drinker, to say they were royally sloshed would have been an understatement. They sat on the floor of the study, giggling as they had been for the five minutes prior, and if asked, they would have honestly had no clue what over.

They hadn't intended to drink so much. One glass of wine with dinner led to another and another, so on, and so forth. They had actually started with only one bottle, but when it was emptied they called for another. When that one was half-drained, they asked for another. By the time they were halfway through the second bottle, they were both relaxed and laughing over the silliest things. They refilled their goblets from habit, never thinking twice about how badly it would affect them.

They had discussed a great many things, none of which were important. Hermione desperately wanted to take advantage of the situation and get answers to her burning questions. She never once considered she may not remember much of the conversation in the morning.

"Why are all those Death Eaters here?" Hermione asked when the laughter faded.

Of course it was only natural Death Eaters were present; they were the type of people the Malfoys ran with. What she wanted was explanations. Were the dinners common? What did they discuss? Were they working as Death Eaters again? Why were they recruiting?

Narcissa hesitated, still in control of _some_ of her mental facilities, and knit her brows together in concentration.

"They are…Draco's _friends_… they have dinner here most Saturdays," she finally answered.

Hermione lost track of the conversation as she tipped the third wine bottle on end into her wine glass. She held the empty bottle to one of her eyes. With one eye squinted shut, she peered down the neck of the empty bottle.

"I do believe we've run dry, Narcissa," she slurred slightly, sending the other woman into another fit of giggles. Hermione downed the contents of her goblet.

"If I drink anymore wine, I think I'll be sick," Narcissa replied through her laughter.

"I concur. What we need now is…_Firewhiskey,_" Hermione said, mentioning the word 'Firewhiskey' like it was the fabled water from the fountain of youth.

Hermione had had Firewhiskey only one time before.

Several weeks after the war had ended, the Ministry held a party for the Order and the Heroes of the Wizarding World in celebration. It was a nice gesture but the pain of loss was far too fresh for festivities.

Hermione had found herself wandering through the crowded ballroom looking at familiar faces and searching for ones she knew she'd never see smiling back at her again. Harsh reality was overwhelming and before the night had ended, Hermione had knocked back several shots of the flaming beverage in an effort to suppress her feelings and be numb.

It had worked, with consequences.

After that night, she had stuck to wine and Muggle bottled beverages, 'girly drinks' Ron and Harry had called them.

Given her current state though, the memories of that fateful, first Firewhiskey night seemed to have slipped her mind.

"Oh! Lucius keeps some hidden in the salon. Let's see if it's still there, shall we?"

Narcissa said as she stood on wobbly feet and began walking toward the glass, French doors that lead to the courtyard.

"Where, _precisely_, are you going? Is the salon in the garden?" Hermione asked, completely serious.

Narcissa stopped and frowned.

"I have no idea."

Hermione rolled over in another fit of laughter.

After several minutes of stumbling, wobbling, and bouncing off furniture and walls, the two women made it into the hall.

Narcissa looked around the passage wide-eyed, trying to see in the dimly lit corridor. It was well beyond ten o'clock and as no noise could be heard, the women made a rather colossal mistake and assumed the guests were gone and the Malfoy men were fast asleep. Had they known the truth, they may have stayed in the safety of the younger woman's chambers. However, they did not know and set about their mission.

"Shhhhhhh," Narcissa hissed as Hermione closed her bedroom door, a little too loudly.

"Sorry," the younger woman replied and the two started down the hall in a quick, but swerving, tiptoe.

Due to their inebriated state, it took near half an hour for the two women, trying to laugh quietly and managing only to sound like a pair of hissing snakes, to reach the main staircase and the ground floor. Wandering the very same corridor the dining room was down, Narcissa began silently opening doors. She honestly _couldn't_ remember where her husband's salon was. She rarely visited the room.

"I think we're close," Narcissa said.

"Really? You could have worked for M.I.6, you're _very_ good at this sneaking business," Hermione answered, without a hint of sarcasm.

"What is … _M.I.6_?" the blonde woman asked in confusion.

"Oh…it's…well it's…never mind," the younger woman answered.

Narcissa stopped in front of a set of large wooden doors. A light from inside the room glowed around the cracks. She reached for the handle when Hermione quickly stopped her hand.

"Shhhh," she whispered, a little too loudly. "I think someone's in there."

Both women leaned forward and put their ears to the doors in an attempt to listen. Undeniably, there _were_ people in the room. They could hear ice clinking in glasses and the baritone voices of several men talking, as well as the crack of pool balls connecting.

"Bugger," Narcissa said in her normal volume, neither woman noticed the cease in conversation from within the room, "if they're in there, I doubt we can get to it."

The door she was leaning her ear against opened abruptly. Lucius Malfoy stood in the doorway looking out at the two women. Narcissa straightened herself and tried to look as dignified as possible in the state she was in.

"Do you need something?" he asked her, looking at her as though she had grown a second head.

She sniffed. Trying to remain composed.

"Yes, as a matter of fact, we do. If you would _kindly_ step aside, I will remove the offending item and we will be on our way."

Hermione would have golf-clapped and muttered '_Bravo'_ at the decorous performance, if they had been in any other company.

Lucius quirked a brow and a smirk crossed his lips. He stepped aside and waved dramatically with his arm ushering her in, "By all means, my dear."

"Thank you," she said, walking past him proudly.

He held the door open and looked at Hermione with a frown; she decided to step, cautiously, into the room.

She was sorely disappointed at the site that met her.

Zabini, Nott, and Goyle sat around a small cocktail table with glasses of brandy in front of them and an ashtray of smoking cigars. Rodolphus was lingering on the far side of the room near the dark window gazing out at the shadowed rose garden, a glass of the golden beverage in his hand as well. Flint and Draco were standing at the billiards table with their pool sticks in hand. All faces were, once again that night, on the two women that had entered the room.

Hermione scowled at them, angry at them all for still hanging about.

Narcissa leaned in close to her.

"You distract them, I'll try to find it," she whispered. However, the words were somewhat louder than she had expected them to be and elicited smirks and sniggers from half the men present.

"Right," Hermione replied and walked purposefully towards Draco and the pool table. When she stood in front of him and beside the table, she looked from it to him before asking, "Billiards?"

"Is it that _obvious_?" he replied. The urge to slap her teeth from her head was overwhelming him. However, the alcohol from dinner had mellowed his anger slightly and he decided to play nice for the time being.

"Yes, well, it's just that this is a Muggle … game. I'm rather shocked."

"Don't Muggles live in houses?" he replied.

"Yes, but-"

"Do Muggles use silverware?"

"They do, but-"

"Do Muggles sleep in beds?"

"_Where_ are you going with this, Malfoy? Surely you aren't comparing _yourself_ to Muggles," she finally said in irritation.

"This, Granger, like fine wine and cigars, is a part of upper-society life, not that _you_ would know anything about that. You shouldn't be so shocked, Muggles stole the game from Wizards, despicable creatures they are. That doesn't change the fact that it _is_ a gentleman's game, like chess."

"I see." She glared at him angrily after his slur against her own origins. "So why, exactly, are _you_ playing?"

He ignored her comment, which insinuated he was no gentleman.

"It's just one more thing I can best you at, you know." She defiantly lifted her chin.

"I highly doubt _that_, Granger."

Glass objects clattered together from across the room. His eyes flicked from the woman before him to his mother. She was on her hands and knees halfway in the cabinet she was searching. He furrowed his brow at such unusual behavior from his normally _very_ proper mother.

"Mother, _what,_ in the name of Merlin, are you _doing_?"

She pulled out of the cupboard and looked at him like a deer caught in headlights.

"Nothing, darling."

He frowned at her obvious lie and returned his attention to the witch in front of him. He surveyed her carefully with narrowed eyes. He leaned in close to her, for a moment she was afraid he was going to kiss her and recoiled slightly. When he was an inch from her face, he sniffed. His remaining anger quickly dissolved into amusement at the sight before him.

"Good gods, woman, you are _thoroughly_ pissed. If only Potty and Weasel could see you now."

She gasped in shock. She _was_ quite gone, but not so far that she couldn't walk straight or speak clearly.

"I am _not_," she said indignantly, focusing on her pronunciation to prove her point.

"_Really_?" She nodded. "Well, then, since you are _completely_ sober, I accept your challenge."

"What challenge?"

"Did you not challenge me to a game of billiards just a moment ago? Or have you forgotten already?" he asked, smirking mirthfully.

"Oh…I…"

"Not so confident you can beat me now?"

"I _can_." She nodded, as if convincing herself, "Yes, let's play."

"Good," he said and tipped his head at Flint, who began retrieving the pocketed balls and racking them. "Care to make a wager on our little game?" he asked her, an impish tone seeping into his words.

"What did you have in mind?" she replied as she chalked the tip of her pool stick.

He smiled at her like the devil he was. This was the part where he tormented _her,_ and extracted some of his retribution. He would seek payment for her earlier transgressions.

"If I win, you spend the night in my room," he grinned at her and wagged his brows suggestively. Someone amongst the men wolf-whistled, and they all chuckled energetically.

Her cheeks tinged a bright red, being already pink from the alcohol. Her mouth fell open in shock and her eyes widened significantly. She was thoroughly embarrassed.

Had she heard him right? No, surely not. He couldn't be serious.

He looked serious.

She was panicking, adrenaline rushed through her body. Had she chosen one of her immediate responses, fight or flight, she would have flown. She suddenly felt much soberer than she had a minute prior.

"And what would you ask of me?" he asked her, taking in her flush and agitation.

"I…well I…." She stopped and tried to think of something, but found it difficult, still being distressed over his lewd suggestion.

What could he possibly give her? The only thing she _really_ wanted was the necklace removed and _that_ wasn't possible. What could she ask that would really put him out? What was something that he would never, in a thousand years, want to give her? Her mind was blank.

A noise from the cabinet Narcissa was rummaging in caught her attention.

"Would you excuse me for one second?"

He nodded in reply, curious about her motives.

She hurried across the room to where the other woman was and knelt beside her. She leaned into the cupboard and they began whispering. Narcissa leaned back and looked at her son, deep in thought, before turning back to Hermione and whispering in her ear again. A wide grin crossed the younger woman's face and she hurried back to the billiards table.

"Alright-"

"And?"

"If I win, I want you to buy me the prettiest engagement ring you can find and propose to me properly… on your knees."

Across the room, Lucius choked and spluttered on the sip of brandy he had in his mouth. He coughed loudly trying to clear his air passage. Goyle reached over and smacked him on the back several times in assistance.

It was Draco's turn to gape in shock. _That_ was the last thing Draco wanted to do, he had even told his mother there was no way…

_Mother, that traitorous woman_, he thought angrily, glaring at the back of said woman's platinum head.

Even so, he wasn't particularly nervous about having to comply. He was confident he would win. If she did in fact beat him in her condition, she deserved whatever she asked for. After all, he had been playing the game with his father and friends since he was a small boy, there was no way a _Muggleborn __**girl – **_a very _drunk_ Muggleborn girl_-_could best him.

"Alright, I agree to your terms," he finally answered.

"Will you keep your word?" she asked him, eyeing the man suspiciously.

He frowned at her.

"I think there are enough witnesses. I will keep my word but I don't think it's going to be necessary. Will you?"

She growled at him angrily, "I'm a Gryffindor aren't I?"

He had to accept it, for it was the only answer she was giving him.

Drunk or no, she, like Draco, wasn't particularly afraid of losing. She had been playing the game as well, with her cousins, since she was a young girl.

They both took places at the end of the table and lined up with two cue balls. They took their shots and let the balls bounce off the opposite end of the table and roll back towards them. Draco's stopped half an inch passed Hermione's, signifying he would have choice of who broke.

"As I _am_ a gentleman, you may break," he said, giving her a cocky look.

"We're playing Eight-ball?" she asked him.

He nodded and she moved to the head of the table and aligned herself with the rack of balls.

Draco might have chosen differently had he know the reward he selected for winning would sober the woman up so spectacularly. She used all of her mental prowess, which was quite a lot, to focus completely on the task before her.

She steadied her hand, pulled back on the stick, and let it loose. A crack filled the room and the balls bounced off the sides of the table. The green six dropped into a side pocket.

All of the men had gravitated towards the table to watch the game, heavy stakes rested on the outcome of it.

She made her way around the table and found her next shot. She closed her eyes a moment, calculating, before pulling back and letting her stick ram the cue ball. The yellow one-ball rolled from Hermione's end of the table to the far end and dropped into the corner pocket in front of Draco. She smiled at him evilly.

"It was only two shots, Granger, don't get full of yourself," he said, though he was beginning to worry. He hadn't really expected her to sink two in a row straight from the break. Maybe she was better than he had given her credit for.

"Have any ideas where you're going to buy that ring, Malfoy?" she asked him as she found her next shot.

She missed her third shot and Draco took the table.

He was a much better player than she had expected. He was already several shots ahead of her when he finally missed. She poured every bit of concentration into her shots. There was no way she was going to let him win. However, she knew if she messed up again he most likely would.

To her utter disappointment, she even shrieked in anger, her second to final shot missed horribly.

Draco smirked at her as he started lining up his last shot before the eight-ball.

"Honestly, you should have known better, Granger. Did you _really_ think you could beat me?" he asked after he sank his last ball and moved on to the game shot. Contempt and arrogance oozed from his words.

With his lopsided grin still in place he called his pocket, lined up perfectly, and softly jabbed the black eight.

Everyone held their breath as they watched the ebony orb slowly make its way down the green, felt table.

Hermione was on the verge of tears as she watched the ball travel on a faultless course for its designated pocket.

The ball rolled on to the end corner pocket and just as it should have flopped into the hole, it stopped; on the very lip of the pocket and rolled no more.

Everyone stood around the table in stunned silence staring at the ball as if it might decide to complete its trek at any second.

After several long, empty moments, all faces turned to see the reaction from the man at the head of the table. At some point, even Narcissa had abandoned her search for the Firewhiskey to watch the game and she too looked curiously at her son.

Draco stared at the ball, his mouth hung open slightly.

"Where _are_ you going to get that ring, Draco?" Zabini finally piped up, breaking the silence. He was thoroughly amused by his friend's situation.

Draco ignored them all and continued to stare at the eight-ball, wondering why, in Merlin's name, it had stopped. His pride was sorely injured; all that boasting and he ended up losing. Sheer luck was what that was, luck and nothing more.

With the game over, Narcissa returned to the cabinets and began rummaging again.

"Damn it all, woman! _What _are you looking for?" Lucius finally yelled at her.

She rocked back onto her heels and glared at him.

"Where's the bloody Firewhiskey?" she snapped. The alcohol had effectively overpowered the always-proper Narcissa; in her place was a bold woman, unconcerned with formalities

Her husband was stunned. She had never spoken like that to him, nor had she demanded alcohol in all the years they had been married. For that matter, he couldn't remember her being so inebriated since before they graduated from Hogwarts; and he remembered quite well the _fun_ that came along with those parties. He was intrigued.

"In the far cabinet," he replied with a smirk and quirked eyebrow.

"Thank you," she said sweetly as she moved to the cabinet and quickly withdrew the bottle that had brought them there in the first place. She opened one of the upper cabinets holding glasses and removed two.

She walked out the French doors and Hermione followed her. The two women sat in the lounge chairs on the veranda and poured glasses of the burning liquid they had sought.

Draco sighed heavily and shut the doors behind them. He turned back to the room for the taunting and prodding he knew he would face from the other men. As he approached the blasted table in the center of the room, he heard wine goblets clink together and the two women on the terrace laugh loudly.

He rolled his eyes.

He was beginning to have a long list of things to get Ms. Hermione Granger back for. His vengeance _would_ be served, cold preferably.

* * *

After an indeterminable amount of time, Narcissa returned to the room where the men were. She knew it had to be well into the early morning but from the atmosphere of the salon, it wasn't obvious. Apparently, the brandy glasses she had seen them with earlier were the first of many.

She sighed; she was very tired and very tipsy. She hadn't felt that way since her Hogwart's days, when she was a blushing schoolgirl. She wasn't even sure she could make it back to her room on her own.

She approached her son, who was sitting on the unused pool table.

"Draco, darling, she's asleep in one of the chairs and I can't wake her," she said heavily.

He scowled at her.

"Why should _I_ care?" he asked darkly as he turned up his empty glass and let the melted-ice fall into his mouth. He was still angry with the woman before him for her betrayal.

The look she gave him reminded him, though three sheets to the wind, she _was_ still his mother and he knew _damned_ well why he should care.

He rolled his eyes and nodded, "I'll take care of it, _mother_."

"That's my dear," she said as she smiled sweetly at him, gave him a kiss, then, with a coy smile, took her husband's hand and led him from the room.

Draco sighed in irritation and slammed his empty glass onto the felt pool table. He stood and looked to the other men in the room.

"Well, party's over," he stated somberly. The other men nodded in acceptance.

"We meeting during the week?" Blaise asked as he stood and wrapped his cloak around his shoulders.

"I don't know, I'll let you know if so… but plan on dinner Saturday."

Draco led his friends to the door and saw them out to Apparate to their respective homes.

He returned to the patio where Hermione was, undeniably, passed out. He reached down and shook her shoulder violently.

"Granger," he said at a normal volume.

"Granger!" he shouted at her.

He leaned down near her face and into her ear yelled, "Granger!"

She was completely unresponsive, dead to the world. His final attempt had drawn a low moan and nothing more. He rolled his eyes and slipped an arm under her shoulders and the other beneath her knees.

She was heavier than she looked, but dead weight always would be. Her head rolled back like a rag doll's and her arms hung limply from her body.

He carried her to her bedroom, mumbling angrily the entire way. He was still irate over the events of the evening; first her refusing dinner and embarrassing him, then showing up completely pissed and finally, the utter humiliation of his loss at billiards.

Now, of all the things he swore he _wouldn't_ do, he was _obligated_ to buy the wench a ring and propose. He began wondering what classified as a proposal. Perhaps he could just leave the box somewhere she would find it, _or_ owl it to her. He'd do anything to avoid having to do it kneeling before her. Maybe if he owl'd it while on his knees… his thoughts continued in a predictable pattern.

He reached her door and awkwardly opened it with the hand that supported her legs. He stepped into the room and approached her bed.

He was more than grateful one of the house-elves had turned down her bedding; there was no way he could have managed that. He all but tossed her into the bed and, taking one last admiring glance at her attire, pulled the blankets over her.

He studied her face.

She was quite pretty; not nearly as beautiful as some of the women he had dated, nor comparable to some of his friends' wives, but she was attractive in her own way. She could stand to gain a few pounds. She wasn't frailly thin, but her figure was less than womanly; she needed more meat on her bones. Her hair was smoothed out which made all the difference, the color wasn't enviable but it no longer looked wild and knotted.

However, it was decided that she was much more pleasant when she was sleeping, practically comatose, and that infuriating trap of hers was closed.

He turned to leave and when he reached her door he heard her sigh contentedly in her sleep.

_Yes, much more agreeable when sleeping, without a doubt_, he thought as he closed the door to her room.

He crossed the hall to his own room to find, what he knew would be disturbed and broken, sleep.


	9. Chapter 9: Contracts and Visitors

**AN: Spoiler Warning- This chapter contains minor Book 7 spoilers.**

* * *

The remainder of the weekend passed slowly.

Hermione woke late Sunday and found she was feeling worse than she could ever remember feeling and she recalled only bits of the previous night. She was grateful, though, that Narcissa sent an elf to her room with a hangover remedy.

She spent all of Sunday roaming the Manor. A dreary, rainy day kept her from exploring the grounds, so she had turned her attention to the palatial estate. It was rather simple to navigate, once she understood the layout, but that didn't minimize the sheer number of rooms; a good deal of which were locked and impenetrable. Hermione's curiosity overwhelmed her and she wanted nothing more than to see what those cordoned chambers held.

She had managed to avoid all of the Malfoys the length of Sunday. She ate breakfast after they had; lunch before them; and dinner well after them, alone in her study. It was in the late evening of that day that she came across the library on the first floor. Her study seemed miniscule in comparison.

This was where she spent all of Monday as well, as the rain had not abated. By Monday afternoon, she was fairly certain both Lucius and Draco had left the house; it was far too fortuitous to have completely avoided them for two days. Even Narcissa was missing.

Hermione told herself she didn't mind, the solitude was no different than what she had had a week prior in her own flat. Yet, somewhere, deep down, she had come to enjoy the other woman's company. It was _almost_ like having her mum back. And she couldn't help but feel a little trapped, being all alone in the large building.

Tuesday promised to be slightly more interesting. A tapping at her bedroom window awoke her to yet another rainy day.

Upon receiving the Ministry owl's delivery, Hermione's heart pounded at the envelope before her. Harry had replied and he had sent her the contracts she requested. At least that would give her something to occupy her time for the remainder of the day. The legal jargon of the contracts, though comprehensible, was prone to inducing migraines and thus took much longer to comprehend than, say, an old tome on the history of vampires.

She opened Harry's letter first.

_Hermione-_

_I knew this assignment was a bad idea. I can't believe you're stuck there for a month. I don't know what to say; I just knew something like this would happen. Ginny and I are coming to see you Thursday at lunch, I don't care if Malfoy likes it or not. I don't like this business. Not at all. Please, __please__, be careful. I've sent along the papers you requested. I best go now, before I make myself right sick with worry. Remember, constant vigilance._

_Take care._

_Love,_

_Harry_

Hermione beamed at the letter. Harry and Ginny were coming to see her in two days. She couldn't wait. Though it hadn't even been a week, it felt like it had been ages since she'd seen her friends. Hermione opened the envelope that held the documents and tipped it over onto her desk, the papers slid out and splayed across the surface.

She knew everything _her _contract had said; she was more interested in what Draco's declared. She lifted the paper clipped bundle that was his and began thumbing through it. There were at least thirty pages of legalities. She took the collection to the sofa and made herself comfortable to go through it.

Hermione stopped reading only during lunch and went straight back to it. Some parts were harder to understand than others and she had to spend extra time translating those phrases.

She had had no idea how complex and binding his documents had been. She didn't know he had been forbidden from so much as speaking the word '_Mudblood_'; but it did explain his odd outburst on Saturday evening, like he had choked on a word. She had known he couldn't use any Unforgivables on her. She had _not_ know that so long as she was in his care, any cast on her at all, he would be held responsible for, unless there was proof he had been incapable of preventing it.

She had begun to drift into sleep as she neared the end, and fully passed out with six pages remaining. She slept another fitful, uncomfortable night on the sofa before the fire.

* * *

Thursday morning finally rolled around and the skies had cleared.

Hermione had eventually found what Draco had been alluding to in the contract. There was an infidelity clause, a very _strict _infidelity clause. So much as a more-than-friendly touch or kiss, whether given or received, would be in violation of the contract and he'd have to answer to the Ministry. She didn't remember reading that in her _own_ contracts, not that she was the type of girl to be unfaithful.

However, she wouldn't have thought twice about Draco having a mistress; in fact, she had highly expected it. If _she_ expected it, it only stood to reason that Kingsley had as well. She had been so sure his mysterious visitor from the previous Saturday morning had been a woman. Knowing it wasn't didn't ease her curiosity any though; in fact, it only sparked her interest more.

If it wasn't a woman in the room, who was it? Possibly one of his friends, but why deny they were there in the first place when they had all been at the house that same night. No, it couldn't have been one of them. So who was he meeting with and why would he lie about them being there, when so obviously someone had been?

It seemed every day brought more questions and fewer answers.

Well, she had found one answer for _that_ day at least. Now she understood his temper tantrum about having to 'touch' her. A part of her felt sorry for him, knowing the ladies' man he had always been. However, the vast majority of her was giddy at yet another form of torture that had been imposed upon the git. She'd have to remember to thank Kingsley for adding those shackles to the contract.

Her happiness over Draco's unhappiness couldn't compare to the excitement she felt about Harry and Ginny's impending lunch visit.

Narcissa had been as pleasant as ever when Hermione told her that her friends were coming for lunch. Draco, however, blew off like a teakettle. He ranted and raved in his study at her for almost an hour, though it had all been in vain.

Lucius had slithered his way out of the lunch, like the snake that he was; and when Draco tried to join him, he was met by fierce opposition from his dear mother. He really didn't know why he bothered to listen to her anymore. Even so, the aristocrat in him knew he had to stay; it was only the proper thing to do as the head of the house. He cursed his father for leaving him to deal with Harry-_bleeding_-Potter and three women alone.

* * *

Hermione sat in Draco's study by herself, waiting on the Potters to arrive. She assumed Draco was with his mother, most likely in the sitting room having a cup of tea before lunch; even more likely, he was off having a glass, or two, of brandy to prepare for his imminent torment.

That was, in fact, _exactly_ what he was doing, and he had just polished off the _third_ glass when the hearth in his study across the Manor flared to life.

Harry stepped out of the marble fireplace first and Ginny followed behind, her burgeoning belly evident in her lavender day-dress. Harry looked around the study and frowned.

"A little… much for a study, no?" he asked Hermione, referring to the pretentious décor of the room. Hermione, who had stood from the sofa and was hugging Ginny, looked to him and smiled.

"You have no idea. They over-do just about _everything_," she told him as she stepped forward and hugged him tightly.

"Hermione, _what_ are you wearing?" Ginny asked her admiringly, completely surprised that Hermione wasn't in her normal jeans and t-shirt but instead was wearing a lovely knee-length cocktail dress. "I love it!"

"Oh, this?" Hermione looked at her dress and frowned. "You wouldn't believe me if I told you."

She was met with their expectant gazes and explained.

"Almost _all_ of the Muggle clothes I brought with me have systematically disappeared. I've been forced to wear the clothes Narcissa bought for me. I think Malfoy made the elves nick them all."

"Malfoy's had your _clothes_ pinched?" Harry asked in disbelief.

"I assume it was him, but I haven't seen him since…Saturday night, actually, to confront him about it. I'm sure they weren't good enough, and they were Muggle, can't have that here, you know." She rolled her eyes. "Oh, by the way, I hope you're both hungry, the poor elves have been slaving away half the morning in the kitchen. They wouldn't even let me help."

Harry looked to Ginny; both knew precisely how Hermione felt about those deprived creatures.

"I'm starved actually," Harry piped up.

"I'm always hungry these days," Ginny said with a smile.

"Alright, come on." She led them from the room and began down the long corridors to the dining room.

Harry and Ginny gaped at the portraits, walls, chandeliers, and marbled floors, much in the same way Hermione had when she first arrived.

"Ginny will you be leaving when Harry goes back to work, or can you stay a while?" Hermione asked.

"Oh, I don't have anywhere to go. I can stay if you'd like."

"I'd like that _very_ much," Hermione grinned at her. "It's been, what, almost three weeks since we've spent a whole day together."

The threesome continued to chat comfortably as they approached their destination. They reached the dining room and found Narcissa and Draco already seated and waiting.

Harry hesitated at the door, taking in the room he had once visited under different circumstances several years before. He noticed a new chandelier had been installed, and that made him think, sadly, of Dobby.

Hermione pulled him forward by his arm. She took her place across from Narcissa, with Draco at the head of the table. Harry sat beside her and Ginny sat across from him beside Draco's mother.

"Malfoy," Harry said in greeting as he sat.

"Potter," Draco replied as nicely as he could, though it still sounded a bit like a snarl; but that could have been the alcohol affecting his pronunciation.

"Mrs. Malfoy, always a pleasure," Harry continued politely. He didn't like the Malfoys; he utterly despised Lucius and Draco, but Narcissa had done him an unforgettable favor and he would go to great lengths to be polite to her.

"Mr. Potter, how are you?" she responded graciously.

"Very well, thank you."

"Mrs. Potter," she said looking to the young woman on her left. She smiled at her warmly, "I had no idea you were expecting. Congratulations."

Unnoticed by all, Draco rolled his eyes and leaned back in his chair with his arms crossed.

Ginny's brows pinched together a little, as she was shocked at the cordiality the elder woman was showing.

"Thank you. Three months left, we're pretty excited."

"Yes, I remember those days. It can't happen soon enough and when it does you wished it had lasted a little longer. Do you know what you're having yet?" Narcissa asked as she lifted the porcelain teapot from the center of the table and poured herself a cup. "Tea?" she asked the redhead before she had a chance to answer.

"Yes, please. We're having a boy."

Everyone else at the table sat listening to the two women's conversation. Draco had no inclination to speak to Granger _or _Potter, and neither had they to him. Narcissa poured the cup of tea for the younger woman before replacing the pot.

"Oh, that's lovely. Boys are so much fun. They grow up so fast, though. Have you decided on a name?" she asked.

"Yes, actually, we're going to call him James Sirius."

Draco snorted derisively.

"Something you want to say, Malfoy?" Harry snapped at him. Draco glared at the other man.

"James was your father's name, wasn't it, Mr. Potter?" Narcissa quickly asked, trying to avoid an argument before it started.

"Yes."

"Well, I think that's lovely," she replied.

The food appeared on the table and everyone ate in relative silence, occasionally someone murmured about the delicious food, or the lovely paintings on the walls. When the meal was finished and the dishes vanished to the kitchen, Narcissa rose first.

"Shall we move to the sitting room?" she asked.

The four young people muttered their agreements and stood to follow her.

Hermione stopped at the door after Harry and Ginny left, following Narcissa; Draco stood behind her. She turned to face him.

"You could _try_ to get along, you know," she whispered.

He quirked a brow at her, "What, like you tried to get along with _my_ guests?"

"I was _not_ rude to them. In fact, I don't think we exchanged any words at all."

"I call that rude, Granger. And you _were_ in fact discourteous, because you declined dinner."

"I have no choice over when and with whom I dine?" She was quickly losing her patience.

"I have no choice over with whom I speak or don't?" he replied, mocking her.

She scowled at him but had no answer. She wouldn't say it, but he had a valid point.

"_Fine_, don't try to get along. Just keep your damn mouth shut."

"I've been trying to, but I assume you didn't notice that, what with _Perfect Potter_ demanding your every moment's attention," he said angrily as he physically pushed her aside and exited the room.

_Oh, I hate him_, she thought.

She breathed in deeply and counted to ten trying to calm her nerves. When she felt sufficiently more peaceful she joined the others in the sitting room.

Narcissa had summoned more tea and Draco had not joined them. They sat another half hour and enjoyed the tea and company. With Draco absent, Harry was much more at ease and the conversation was quite pleasant.

* * *

Harry frowned as he checked his wristwatch. He had wanted time to speak with Hermione alone and it was already time for him to Floo back to the Ministry.

"Well, I have to go now, get back to work and all," he said to the women as he stood. "Mrs. Malfoy, lunch was wonderful, thank you for having us."

"It was my pleasure. Perhaps you'll come again soon," she replied.

"I'll walk you back to the study so you can use the floo," Hermione said, standing as well. "I'll be right back, Ginny, okay?"

"That's fine," the other girl replied.

Harry leaned over and kissed his wife softly, whispering words of love and plans for dinner later.

Hermione led Harry back upstairs and down the corridors to the study.

"So, everything's okay with you?" he asked her once they were alone in the halls.

"As well as can be expected, I suppose," she responded.

"Where's the jewelry you were talking about?"

She stopped and lifted the chain from under the neck of her dress.

Harry lifted it and examined it. He rolled his eyes and sighed heavily.

"Is there anything about this family that _isn't_ Slytherin?" he asked; he hadn't failed to notice the gratuitous use of silver and green in the décor throughout the house.

"Not that I've found. You know how I told you my clothes were vanishing and I had to wear the ones given to me?" she asked as they started walking again.

"Yeah."

"All of the clothes, and I do mean _every_ piece, that were given to me started out black or green. I managed to alter most of the dresses and gowns, like this one," she said as she motioned to the midnight blue cocktail dress she was wearing, "but I'm so _sick_ of green. If I _never_ saw green again, it would be entirely too soon. If it weren't so tiring and tedious I'd make every article of clothing Gryffindor red simply to spite him, but I just don't have the energy. I think it'd be a losing battle anyway, what with the elves assisting him," she smiled at Harry.

It wasn't that she really hated green. Before she had gone to Hogwarts and met the Slytherin Prince, emerald green had been her favorite color; it truly did complement her eyes and complexion; it looked good on her, like that blasted mirror had said. Now, however, it only made her think of all the bad things that had come to pass, a bit like black tended to. Maybe with time, she could come to love it again, but not as long as her feud with her fiancé continued.

Harry wrapped an arm around her shoulders in a brotherly manner, pulling her in close as they approached the study door.

"Are you sure you're going to be alright here, Hermione?" he asked, the concern apparent in his voice.

"Yeah, it's really not been that bad. No worse than Hogwart's. It's a lot of petty arguments, nothing truly serious…. _yet_."

They reached the study and she let him in. When they stood in front of the hearth, Harry reached around her and hugged her tightly.

"Please, let me know if anything happens, if you need anything? Ok?" He grasped her cheeks with his hands and tilted her head up to look her in the eyes. She nodded and smiled up at him. "Alright… I've been _so_ worried about you here. I swear, Hermione, if he does anything…"

"Don't _worry_, Harry, really."

He smiled down at her, "You're so damn stubborn."

He leaned forward and kissed her forehead.

"Take care of Ginny. She better get home in one piece," he said as he stepped into the fireplace.

"Oh, _Harry_, I was hoping to give her a lovely piece of Slytherin jewelry I found…" she pouted, as though he had truly spoiled her fun.

Harry cocked his head at her and gave her a stern look.

She rolled her eyes and laughed at him.

"Get out of here; you're going to be late." She tossed down some floo powder and waved good-bye to him.

Harry vanished in the green flames and Hermione started back to the sitting room. She had just stepped out of the study doors when an upper-class drawl broke the silence and startled her.

"Come now, Granger, is green _truly_ that bad?" he asked, emerging from the shadows across the hall.

She glared at him angrily.

"Haven't you anything better to do than eavesdrop?"

She started walking briskly back towards the downstairs sitting room. She shook her head in irritation when he fell into step beside her.

"In my own house? No."

She stopped walking and frowned up at him. Even at her respectable height of five foot six, he towered over her. It was impossible to intimidate him when he stood seven inches taller and looked down at her. She sniffed the air, catching the distinguishable scent on his breath.

"You've been drinking, Malfoy?"

"I had some brandy, yes. Is that alright, _dear_?"

She rolled her eyes at him. "Are you _ever_ sober?"

"I'm marrying you, aren't I? Why would I _want_ to be sober?"

Her features hardened and she started walking again, "Rest assured, the feeling is mutual."

He followed her, much to her annoyance.

"Does Potter actually think I'm going to kill you or something?" He asked with a smirk firmly in place.

"Honestly, Malfoy. I wouldn't put it past you. You probably already would have tried if you didn't have something to lose by doing so."

He sneered at her, "Do _you_ think I'd kill you?"

She stopped again and looked at him slightly confused.

"Didn't I just answer that?"

"No, not exactly, I believe you were answering whether Potter thought I'd kill you. I asked if _you_ think I'd do it." He looked at her sardonically and muttered, "I thought _I_ was the drunken one."

She hesitated and shifted uncomfortably.

"I don't know _what_ you're capable of, Malfoy."

She turned and started walking away again.

"I wouldn't, you know," he called to her retreating form.

She stopped, frozen.

"You drive me _absolutely_ insane and sometimes I just want to hex you cross-eyed. You've made me so mad I've wanted to _Crucio_ you on the spot and then laugh at you," he had caught up to her and was standing directly behind her, "but I wouldn't _actually_ hurt you. At times I may want to _very_ badly, but I'd _never_ use an Unforgivable on you."

She spun around to look right at him.

"_Only_ because you _can't_, Malfoy. Were these different circumstances, I'm sure you wouldn't hesitate to cause me all the physical harm and pain you could."

"I distinctly recall a situation in which you were tortured, but not because I brought it upon you or wished it on you. Had I the power to have stopped it, I would have. I wouldn't wish that on anyone that didn't deserve it and _you_ are far too innocent and good to ever deserve it. You know _nothing_ of me, don't _assume_ that you do," he answered angrily. He turned away from her and walked back to his study, the click of his expensive loafers filling the hall.

She opened her mouth to speak but the study door slammed firmly shut, sending a deafening crack through the hall. She stared at the door a moment, processing his words in shock. She wanted to apologize; she really shouldn't have said that to him, not when he was being a decent person. Merlin knew those times were few and far between.

She ran her fingers through her smooth curls and sighed heavily, mentally berating herself. She really needed to try harder to get along with him. Maybe he wasn't the same boy she knew in school, not that she ever honestly knew him then. She'd never gain his trust at this rate, and everything hinged on him trusting her.

She hesitated once more before turning away from his refuge and hurrying back to the sitting room to join Ginny.

Hermione entered the room somberly. She didn't realize when she walked in that she was still dazed and carried a confused look on her face.

"Are you all right?" Ginny asked upon seeing her friend enter the room.

Narcissa looked up, concerned as well.

"What? Yes…yes…I'm fine. Just a row with Draco," she sat down in the same chair he had sat in the first day she had arrived.

Ginny sighed.

"You two really need to grow up. This isn't Hogwarts and the war is over, you know," she said to Hermione, she too knew how imperative it was for Draco to trust Hermione.

Narcissa nodded slightly in agreement, oblivious to any ulterior motives the girl may have had in speaking.

"I wish it were that simple, Ginny. It's impossible to just… turn off certain feelings and switch on others."

"What is it they say? There's a nice road between love and hate?" Narcissa added.

Hermione suppressed a snicker and corrected her, "A fine _line_."

"Yes, that's it. Oh, I meant to tell you," she stood quickly and moved to the sitting room doors, shutting them and casting silencing charms so they wouldn't be overheard. "Draco found a ring."

"What? When?"

"A ring? What are you talking about?" Ginny asked in confusion.

"An engagement ring. He and Hermione had a bet on a game last weekend and she won, so he had to get her a ring and he has to propose appropriately."

"Oh!" Ginny said with a big smile.

Hermione frowned at her.

"Yes, it's _so_ lovely," Narcissa added, clearly excited to discuss the details. "He had it custom made you know."

"Oh, that's _so_ sweet!" Ginny gushed.

Hermione looked at the two women like they had gone completely, utterly, and irreversibly mad; they _were_ speaking about Draco Malfoy weren't they? Sweet? She looked around half expecting the Hatter to come join the mad tea party. She was surer now than _ever_ that she had fallen down a rabbit hole. She put her head in her hands and sighed.

"I thought so too. He's being very stubborn about the proposal though. He was telling Lucius, who told me, that he was going to put it somewhere randomly for you to find and call _that_ a proposal. Well, I won't have that, that wasn't the agreement. So, if you find the ring box, just send it to me and I'll get it back to him until he does it properly."

Hermione rolled her eyes. "_See? _This is why we can't just get along. He makes _everything_ difficult," she moaned.

"That reminds me, I'm going to need to make an appointment for Madame Malkin to come to the house to work on your dress," Narcissa said, her brow furrowed as she stared into the air, deep in thought over something.

"What dress?" Hermione asked, puzzled.

It was Narcissa's turn to look at her like _she_ was mad.

"Your wedding dress, you silly girl."

"Oh. Why bother? There are plenty of black dresses in the closet I haven't worn," Hermione said dismally.

"Bla…_black_ dresses? Are you mad? You must be," Narcissa had a look of repulsion on her face.

"Why not? I'll be in mourning," Hermione said with a huff.

"Oh, rubbish."

"You can't be serious, Hermione. It's your _wedding_," Ginny said.

"Doesn't matter. Neither of us really wants to marry the other. We're not in love or anything. I doubt Draco would disapprove."

"Oh, come off it, Hermione."

"If you honestly think I'm going to have you marry my only child in a black dress, you truly have lost it, girl. It's not happening," Narcissa said in a way that left little room for argument.

Hermione frowned again.

She sat in silence, reflecting on all the things Draco had told her earlier, while the other two women animatedly discussed wedding dresses and other nonsensical things that Hermione had no interest in at all.

After two hours of the annoying chattering, Hermione sighed loudly. Narcissa decided she'd go to Diagon Alley immediately; she had things to do, people to see. She left before Hermione could even process the words she had said.

"Would you like to go for a walk, Ginny? It's the first sunny day all week and I haven't seen much of the grounds yet."

"Sure," she said.

The two women went out to the rose garden, Ginny gushing all the while over the fragrant blooms, and began their meandering.

* * *

Unnoticed by the two women, on the terrace that was opposite Hermione's, two pale haired men sat watching them while smoking cigars.

Lucius frowned and furrowed his brows when he saw the Weasley girl pluck a particularly attractive flower from its bush.

Draco, having also witnessed the vandalism, looked to his father's scowling face and laughed heartily at him. This proved to only deepen the scowl. Draco could hear random words of his angry mutterings:

'_Disrespectful… Unbelievable! …desecration_… _bloody Weasleys'_.

* * *

Hermione and Ginny had continued their walk, which led them from the rose garden and around the wing of the house, to the gardens that Draco's rooms faced. The estate grounds were spectacularly landscaped: pools with large goldfish swimming about; weeping willows; a gazebo and solarium; far off from the house Hermione made out a lake sitting on the edge of a dark forested area. To the girls' surprise, the path they were on led to a stable, sitting on the edge of large paddock where several astoundingly beautiful horses grazed.

As they approached the foraging animals, Hermione's mouth sagged open.

"That's not possible…"she muttered under her breath.

"What's not?" Ginny asked.

"Do you know what those _are_?"

Ginny shrugged, "Horses?"

"Not _just_ horses, Gin. Those are Andalons. It was believed there weren't any left. I can't believe this…" she gaped at the beasts as the two girls leaned against the fence railing.

"I haven't heard of them, Hermione. What's so special about them anyway? They look like regular horses."

"Ginny! Honestly. You _really_ haven't heard of them?"

Ginny shook her head negatively.

"Well, from what I've read, they were originally bred around… 100AD. They're a cross between the Aethonons- which are native to Britain- and the Muggle Andalusian horses. They lost their wings but they're still mesmerizing. Supposedly, they're extremely intelligent and loyal. And they're the fastest animals on land. I don't remember the details of the legend, but it was something like a wizard of the times had a child who was a squib, so he couldn't Apparate. The father began crossbreeding the horses to create a faster means of travel for his son. There's an old story about them, I doubt it's true, but it said that one of these horses ran from Rome to Paris in three days, without stopping. It's amazing; this is almost as good as seeing the unicorns in fourth year." A smile was plastered on her face.

Ginny looked at her quizzically.

"They still look like regular horses to me," she said.

Hermione could only shake her head at her friend.

One of the animals started walking over to them and Ginny backed away quickly. The creature looked at Ginny with its intelligent eyes before stepping up to Hermione and butting her arm with its nose. Hermione reached out and touched the horse's neck, and began stroking the velvet soft, metallic white coat

"Aren't they beautiful?" She asked Ginny, who had tentatively taken a few steps closer.

"Yeah. Its hair looks like Lucius Malfoy's though."

The horse snorted and shook its head.

"I think you offended it, Gin," Hermione said with a smile. "Come on then, we need to get you back to the house. If you aren't home before Harry, he'll throw a fit and never let you visit me again."

"Yeah, you're probably right," Ginny laughed.

The two girls started wandering back to the large house. After several moments of silence, Ginny began speaking.

"You know, I'm really excited about your wedding, Hermione,"

Hermione scoffed at her friend and gave her another '_Are you mad?_' look.

"No, really, I am. It's just that, my wedding was so small and… intimate. I'm eager to go to a big wedding. Oh! We have to throw you a Witches Wedding Party. When is the wedding? Do you know?"

Hermione shook her head at her friend's eagerness. "October thirty-first."

"No _way_. Are you serious?" Ginny seemed even more excited, if that were possible.

"Yes, Gin, I'm serious."

"Oh, that's _perfect_! You should have some sort of costume wedding."

"You're a _nutter_, Ginny, completely mad. Even if I _was_ eager to marry this man- and I'm not, mind you- I would never, in a thousand years, have a costume wedding. A masquerade, maybe, because-"

"Hermione! You're a genius! That's perfect, oh, it'll be _so_ fun!" Ginny gushed.

"But, Ginny, I don't-"

"No, don't you worry about _a thing_. I'll talk to Narcissa about it. I'm sure she and I can take care of it all. Oh, this is _so _exciting! Do you think she'll let me help plan it all?"

"Ginny, honestly, you're giving me a headache. No more wedding talk."

Hermione received a swat on the arm for that comment.

"Really, Hermione, you're not right in the head. You're the only girl I've ever seen not excited about her wedding."

Hermione frowned; she had been excited at the beginning of the year when she thought of marrying Ron, but that was neither here nor there. She shook her head in hopes of ridding the thoughts from her mind.

The girls entered the house and started towards the study. When they turned the last corner, they met Lucius Malfoy in the hall.

He looked up when the two girls appeared. His eyes flicked to Ginny's hand, which still clasped the orange and pink rose she had plucked. He snorted angrily and stormed passed them, glaring at the short redhead.

Hermione frowned and looked down to see what he had seen. She saw the flower and burst into a fit of giggles, leaving Ginny to stare at her, completely bewildered by both the bizarre actions of the elder Malfoy and her friend.

"I completely forgot." Hermione said through her laughs. She looked over her shoulder to make sure he was gone and leaned in closer to Ginny's ear and whispered to her, "He's angry because you picked one of _his_ roses."

Ginny made an odd face before she too started giggling.

They entered the study red faced and laughing. Draco lifted his head from the parchments on his desks. He looked at the women in disgust, and rolled his eyes.

"Do you two _ever_ shut up?" He asked angrily.

They both did after he said that. Hermione glared at him before turning to face Ginny.

"You'll come again soon?" Hermione asked.

"_I hope not_," Draco muttered across the room.

"As soon as I possibly can," Ginny answered, looking at him crossly.

"Alright, take care, Gin. I'll write you soon."

The girls hugged tightly and Ginny stepped into the fireplace; she was gone in a flash of green flames.

Hermione turned to face the man at the desk, scratching away furiously with his quill.

"Malfoy-"

"Yes, yes, Granger, _I know_, I should try to get along with your friends. We've been through this," he said without looking up or stopping his feverish scratching.

"If you'd kindly let me finish…"

He dropped the quill with an angry huff. "Please, do."

She was going to apologize to him for earlier. She was going to do it nicely. She was trying, making an effort, to be cordial with him. However, all thoughts of niceties fled her mind when he had opened his mouth and let his words spill forth. His current temperament was deplorable, but that was to be expected, she reminded herself.

"I wanted to apologize for speaking to you the way I did earlier. It was wrong, and I'm sorry. You're right, I _don't_ know anything about you and I shouldn't assume to; but _if_ I may be frank, your attitude doesn't encourage me to _want _to know anything about you," with that, she left the room, slamming the door behind her.

Draco raised his brows as she slammed the door. When the room was silent again, he returned to his writing.


	10. Chapter 10: Deliveries and Discussions

Friday morning came and Hermione was pleased to have risen just as the sun was. Her rooms faced west and she had been falling into a bad habit of sleeping in later than she cared for.

_Need to get a new clock,_ she reminded herself. Her old alarm clock was electric, and it wouldn't function properly at the Manor.

She was quite disappointed that her stereo, DVD player, and TV couldn't be used either. She had known they wouldn't work but it was still disheartening. She had spent so much time using them in her flat. There were magical equivalents but she didn't think any were compatible with Muggle media, which meant all her CDs and DVDs were useless. Of course, it had been ages since Hermione had gone shopping in the Wizarding world. And even at that, Diagon Alley didn't always have the latest and greatest. It was possible that hope remained for her yet.

She dragged herself out of bed, scratching Crookshanks' belly on her way to the bathroom. She opted for a warm shower to help wake her. When she stepped out of the shower and began to dry off, a soft pop came from her room. She snatched her wand from the counter top and hesitantly cracked the door to the bedroom open.

The room was empty. However, the heavy curtains were thrown open letting in the morning sun. The window-doors were cracked, allowing the morning breeze to flutter in, bringing the rich fragrance of the roses with it. The bed was made, and on the foot of it, near a still sleeping cat, was a small black, velvet box. Hermione rolled her eyes angrily.

She stepped into the room and stopped a foot from the box. She wanted to open it. She wanted to see what he had picked out. An internal debate was raging in her mind. She wanted to see it so badly, but she wanted him to have to be the one to give it to her. She wanted him to have to swallow his pride. She didn't care if he proposed at all, honestly; she didn't care if it was romantic, beautiful, or heartfelt. She simply wanted to see Draco Malfoy kneeling before _her_, the Mudblood. She pushed her curiosity aside and pointed her wand at the box, muttered a spell, and saw it vanish. It would be on its way to Narcissa, wherever in the house she was.

Hermione went to the closet and began sifting through the clothes; every time she thought about it, she became irate.

All her clothes, _all_ her clothes, were gone. She wanted to cause serious injury to whichever Malfoy was behind it. She _would_ find out who was responsible for it and get them back.

She found something that looked comfortable and slipped it on. She examined herself in the mirror; the dress clung to her torso and flared out at her hips. The lower half was layered with a wispy fabric. She had altered the gown to a pale blue and the over all look was ethereal.

She left her room; she needed breakfast and the dining room was her destination.

* * *

Draco had risen well before Hermione. With his pathetic sleeping habits, he was up hours before the sun was. He was leaving his room when he heard her shower running and decided to go forward with his plan. He called his house-elf and instructed it of what to do. The creature Apparated into Hermione's room and began tidying up.

Draco went to his study. His owls delivered his mail directly to his desk and he stopped there first to see if he had anything urgent awaiting his attention. By the time Draco entered the dining room, Hermione had already found and sent the box away.

* * *

Narcissa was sitting in her normal seat beside her husband, who was reading _The_ _Daily Prophet_.

Draco went to his seat, pulled it away from the table, and made to sit.

He froze.

He stepped away from the chair and looked into it. He looked away to the door, to his parents, and back to the chair, his brows tightly knit together in confusion.

It was still there.

He reached down and touched it.

_What the devil?_ He thought as he picked up the box from his seat and sat down.

"Has Granger been down already?"

Narcissa looked up and met his gaze confidently, being the Slytherin she was.

"No, I haven't seen her. Have you, dear?" she asked Lucius.

"Hmm?" he replied without being distracted from his paper.

"Your father hasn't seen her either," Narcissa answered for him before returning to her morning tea while she glanced over the Society pages from the paper.

Lucius looked up from his portion of the paper curiously; he glanced from his wife, eating her breakfast normally, then to his son, who was studying something in his lap. Lucius quirked a brow and leaned forward to see what Draco was staring at.

The boy noticed and pocketed the black box before his father saw what it was.

Lucius frowned and returned to his paper.

Draco would have questioned the two, if it had remained the three of them. However, it did not. As soon as he opened his mouth to begin the inquisition, the doors opened and Granger entered in all her glory, looking like a phantom. The translucent fabric layers of the dress fluttered as her movement stirred the air around her and the light color, a color not seen within the walls of that home, truly made her look ghostly.

He almost wanted to touch her and make sure she wasn't an apparition. It angered him, for some unearthly reason, that she looked quite beautiful that morning. He scowled at her approaching figure.

Hermione took her normal seat and began placing bits of fruit onto her plate for breakfast.

Narcissa looked up and smiled.

"Good morning. That's a lovely color. Is that one of the dresses I bought you?" She lifted her cup to her lips.

"Yes, it is. I altered the colors. I can only stand so much black, it's so dreary," Hermione said cheerfully.

She took a bite of the fruit she had selected and looked around. Draco and Lucius were looking at her in an annoyed manner; naturally, they were both dressed in head to toe black.

She smiled demurely at the two scowling men.

The four ate in silence, the only sound being the crinkle of the pages of the Prophet Lucius was reading.

Draco felt the box in his pocket through the fabric of his pants.

_How the hell did she manage it_, he kept wondering.

He was truly perplexed. He knew the elves would never dream of disobeying him. Somehow, the witch had managed to get it to the dining room without his parents seeing her.

He suspiciously watched those at the table.

His face slacked in realization.

Hermione had looked up from her food and met eyes with Narcissa. The two women smiled devilishly at each other, like they shared a private joke, like they had a secret.

His blasted mother was working against him _again_!

He sighed in frustration and tossed his napkin to the table without touching his food. Lucius looked up at that movement, upon seeing Draco was done, folded his paper, and stood to leave the room.

"We're leaving, _mother_," Draco said dryly as he stood by the woman and bent down to kiss her cheek.

"All right, darling," she answered, ignoring his tone.

Draco left the room and Lucius, too, bent to give her a kiss and whisper in her ear before leaving.

Confident they were gone, Hermione spoke.

"I think he knows."

"He'll be fine," Narcissa replied nonchalantly, still looking over her paper.

Hermione's brow rose cynically, but decided not to argue with the other woman.

"I saw your horses yesterday," she said conversationally after another bite of fruit.

"Oh?"

Hermione nodded. "Yes, they're quite beautiful. I wasn't aware there were any Andalons around anymore. How did you come about acquiring them?"

"I'm not sure of all the details; they've been handed down for several generations. I think one of Lucius' ancestors purchased all the known living ones during his time as a wedding gift for his daughter in-law, something like that."

"Oh. That's fascinating. I can't get over this place; it's like a museum of the Wizarding world."

Narcissa looked up from her paper and frowned, "Yes, so many generations of the family have lived in this house and constantly accumulated wealth and treasures. I'm truly amazed the place isn't cluttered from floor to ceiling."

Hermione smiled at her and finished her fruit breakfast.

"Do you ride?" Narcissa asked after several minutes.

"Oh, no, I haven't in years, and only once at that," Hermione said.

"Well, the weather is lovely today, we should go for a ride," Narcissa said. "I love riding, but Lucius is always too busy to go with me."

"I have nothing to wear but these dresses; it seems all my normal clothes have vanished." Hermione watched the woman's face for any telltale signs that she was the culprit.

Narcissa looked at her curiously.

"Your clothes?" she asked.

"Mmhmm, my Muggle clothes. Gone," Hermione said between sips of tea.

Narcissa made another curious face before shrugging. "That's odd. No doubt one of the boys has something to do with it."

Convinced of her innocence, Hermione mentally ticked her off the list of suspects.

_One down, two to go_, she thought.

"Well, you can borrow some of my riding clothes if you'd like."

"Oh, I don't know…"

"Don't be silly. It'll be fun." The woman rose and stopped at the doors to the room. "I'll have one of the elves bring them to your room in a few minutes, meet me at the stables as soon as you're ready."

"Alright," Hermione said, as she too rose from the table and went to her room to change.

* * *

Hermione entered the stables and found Narcissa working with two of the animals, getting them ready to ride.

One of the horses was tall and lean, beautiful and terrifying. An ink-black metallic color covered his entire body and his eyes seemed to glow threateningly. Hermione hoped she wasn't to ride him. The other horse looked much more approachable; it resembled one of the silver-white beauties she had seen the day before.

Narcissa turned to fetch something else and noticed Hermione.

"They fit all right?" she asked the young woman as she bustled about.

"Yes, fine."

"Are you ready then?"

Hermione hesitated.

"I…dunno…it's…well…I," she babbled while eyeing the black monster.

"You aren't riding him, he's extremely temperamental, so don't worry," the other woman replied, seeing the girl's obvious fear.

"Oh… good." Hermione sighed in relief and mounted the white animal.

They rode in silence for a while, leading the horses at a leisurely pace around the outer edges of the grounds.

"Narcissa…" Hermione spoke, no longer able to stand the silence.

"Yes?"

"I…I don't mean to be rude but I'm curious…why…why have you been so nice to me?" Hermione asked cautiously.

Narcissa smiled to herself and thought about her answer.

"It's jus that…well… I know I'm Muggleborn and I was…expecting the worst and it's been anything but that," Hermione quickly added at the other woman's silence, hoping she hadn't offended her.

"I grew up with two sisters. I was _very_ close to Andromeda but Bella was always a little mad, even when we were young. She was always so _dark_. I remember being about seven and she was torturing the gnomes in the garden. I just couldn't stand it; she was full of reckless evil."

She paused.

"I was always close to Andromeda, though. She was the normal one," she smiled at Hermione. "It broke my heart when she ran away with Ted. I knew I'd never see her again. They'd call me a blood-traitor if I tried to. And of course, I always wanted a daughter. We had Draco and Lucius refused any others. He had his heir and wanted no more."

She sighed.

"When they told me what Draco planned to do, by marrying a Muggleborn, I had no choice in the matter. It was going to happen whether I wanted it to or not. I could fight it, make your life miserable and still be a lonely woman; or I could accept it and finally have a daughter. I think it's easier for me to accept than either of them. Lucius was an only child. He never really knew love or friendship. His mother died when he was very young and his father was…well…just like him. Draco, though I tried desperately, I don't think has turned out much better. Lucius never could understand why I wanted more children. He never understood why I'd cry on Andromeda's birthday. He's not that hateful, he just…doesn't know what it's like."

She paused and sighed again, lost in her memories. Hermione felt a twinge in her heart for the woman. She felt bad for her and she understood her loneliness.

"And besides," she continued in a lighter tone, "I think you're wonderful for Draco, all prejudices aside. You won't ever let him have what he wants when he wants it. Neither of those men know what 'No' means. I think it would do them both some good to have opposition. I don't think either really knows how to take any of it, like last weekend when we were so intoxicated- I've not drank that much alcohol since my seventh year at Hogwarts- neither of them knew how to react to it."

She smiled brightly.

"I like it. It's always been the two of them against me, now the sides are equal."

Hermione smiled back at her.

"You're telling me you're going to side with me against your husband and son?"

Narcissa sat in thought.

"Yes," she said simply. Both women laughed lightly.

"You know, I'm truly sorry about what Lucius did with the necklace. I had no idea he put it there. I hadn't seen it in years. It was a very cruel thing to do," Narcissa said after several minutes of silence.

"It could be worse," Hermione said, though silently agreeing that Lucius was cruel. "What is the point of it? Do you know? I mean…why have a necklace like this?"

"It's barbaric, one of those old family heirlooms from four or five hundred years ago. The

Lord Malfoy of the time was an extremely jealous man and crafted it himself. He was paranoid of his wife being unfaithful and he didn't trust her to even leave the grounds without him. When he would be gone for days, weeks, or months at a time, he'd put the necklace on her, preventing her from leaving the Manor and condemning her to a life of solitude and loneliness. They were married ten years, I believe, and had a small son when she threw herself from the Manor roof. I'm not sure if anyone's worn it since."

Hermione's eyes widened and she looked at the pendant hanging from her neck in shock, wishing more than ever she could be rid of it.

They continued riding and made their way around the western wing of the house, continuing towards the lake and forest on the south side.

"Do you know… why did Draco volunteer for this? He hates Muggles, Muggleborns, and… me. Why would he freely get himself into this knowing he'd be miserable?" Hermione finally asked; it had been on her mind since that day in the conference room when Lupin announced just who the family was.

"There are a great many things that go on in this house between those men that I am not privy to. I know only that it was imperative to both of them that the family name and trust be restored. They saw an immediate and easy fix and seized it. The true motivation behind it… I don't know… I don't know what they do at their meetings or what they discuss. I don't know where they go when they vanish for days at a time. I only _hope_ they aren't doing what I fear they are."

"And what is that?"

The blonde woman looked at her, a dark look in her eyes.

"Meddling in things they shouldn't be, with people they shouldn't be associating with."

"You don't like his…_dinner_ guests?" Hermione asked after several moments. She was eager to finally have some answers, for herself and the Aurors.

"No. It's not them that worry me, though they aren't the best lot to have around. Theodore is the only one I trust. He is Draco's Counselor but he isn't involved in whatever else they do. Blaise is probably one of the most agreeable, but I trust him the least. He's a devious man. He's as smooth as Lucius and as slimy as Rodolphus. But, no matter how sweet his words, he's always in it for himself. He's truly a Slytherin snake if there ever was one. The others…well…they're no better. Their only winning feature is that they like to be followers. They do anything Draco asks of them and, it seems, rarely think for themselves. Though, if I were you, I'd give Rodolphus and Rabastan a wide berth, neither are to be trifled with."

Hermione shuddered inwardly at the thought. One of the men had been the husband of Bellatrix; it would take a certain _type_ of man to even want to be with _her_, a man with a proclivity for cruelty. She would most assuredly heed Narcissa's warning.

The women grew quiet again and Hermione drifted into her thoughts. "He was such a quiet boy in school…. Nott I mean."

"Theodore is probably the smartest of them. He's never had any desire to be involved in any of it, even before…during the war. It's such a shame all he's been through."

When Hermione looked at her curiously, she continued.

"His wife died when she gave birth to their son. He's been raising the boy on his own all these years."

"Oh, that's terrible," Hermione said, genuinely sad for the Slytherin. "Who did he marry? Anyone from Hogwarts?"

"Yes, I believe she was in your year, Pansy Parkinson. Their boy is four now."

"Parkinson? I didn't know they were married. Wow. That's really…sad."

They rode the horses around the far side of the lake, the house up the hill to their left, the dark forest only meters to their right.

A thundering sound had them both turning to look. Lucius was speeding towards them from the house on one of the other white horses, his face red with fury, his white hair flying angrily behind him.

"How long have we been out here?" Hermione murmured as confusion, worry, and fear washed over her.

"I don't know," Narcissa said as she turned her horse around and rode slowly towards her husband. Hermione followed.

"What the _hell_ are you doing, woman?" Lucius demanded furiously as he pulled his horse up beside his wife.

"What the devil is the matter with you?" she asked, completely confused by his outburst and sudden appearance.

He leaned close and whispered to his wife, his eyes wide with anger and his jaw set. Hermione could only hear pieces of what he said, "_I told you…too close…it's too dangerous…_"

Narcissa whispered back to him, much quieter than he had to her in his anger. Hermione sat waiting patiently, wondering desperately what they were discussing.

A rustling in the woods behind her caused her to spin around and look for the source.

All light ceased at the edge of the trees. Beyond the thick trunks, nothing could be seen. She was certain, though, she could hear something, something moving and breathing. The only things to give away whatever was there were the soft crunching of dry leaves or the light snap of a twig.

She was forced from her investigation when her horse was roughly pulled away. She spun around to find Lucius leading her horse back towards the Manor; Narcissa was already up the hill ahead of them. She looked over her shoulder once more to the woods; her curiosity had awoken and demanded to know what evil thing lurked there. It was calling to her, like a siren. She had to know.

Whatever it was, _something_ was most definitely hiding in those shadows; something beastly, some monster; something that had been watching them, perhaps waiting.

_Waiting for what?_

Hermione shivered. She looked back at her would-be rescuer and felt more than ever like Alice.

Rescued by Lucius Malfoy? What on Earth was the world coming to?

She glanced over her shoulder again at the retreating tree line. Yes, something was in those woods, something dark and dangerous. She could feel it watching her, calling to her, even as they retreated.

Mudblood or not, it was something not even Lucius Malfoy would leave her at the mercy of.

* * *

They returned to the Manor, Hermione still scared out of her wits and thoroughly shaken. She withdrew to her room, took a warm bath and changed into comfortable clothes.

No matter how hard she tried, she couldn't stop thinking about what had happened; why Lucius had reacted the way he had, why she felt the strong need to return to the trees and enter the darkness. It was like a silent song, she could feel it, like strings tied to her heart pulling her. She knew from her studies that those types of feelings were not natural; in fact they were _very_ unnatural. They were the results of dark magic, magic usually associated with dark creatures.

She wracked her mind. She knew vampires could call their victims in such a manner; but no matter how dark it had been in the trees, it was midday, which ruled out vampires.

She was pulled from her thoughts by a hammering on her door. She had not even the time to cross the room to it before it flew open and Draco entered her room and shut the door behind him. She backed away from his angry form. She bumped into her bed and sat on it.

He paced in front of her for several minutes while running a hand through his hair as he thought deeply about something. He finally stopped and faced her.

"Stay away from the woods," he said simply.

She gave him a bewildered look.

"Why? What's in there? What _was_ that?"

He shook his head crossly. He was obviously trying hard to restrain his anger for his chest heaved heavily and his face was set in a scowl.

"Just…_stay_ _away_ from the woods, Granger."

She was quickly growing tired of his obscurities. She stood and stepped in front of him.

"_Why?_"

"Damn it! For once can't you just do as you're told?" he bellowed at her, his voice rising for the first time since he entered her room.

"Not without a reason," she said stubbornly.

"You're not _getting_ the reason. _Stay_ a_way_ from the woods, Granger, or I will _make_ you." He accentuated his words heavily, driving the point home and glowering at her furiously.

She nodded her head meekly, though still insanely curious.

He doubted she'd comply; it was only a matter of time before she wandered back to the trees in search of her answers, answers he couldn't, at that time, give her. He had his reasons for holding his tongue, but they were his reasons and she would have to wait.

He shook his head and sighed before he turned and quickly left the room.

Hermione was left standing in front of her bed, staring at the place he had been standing. Her mind was reeling with even more unanswered questions than before.


	11. Chapter 11: Uninvited Accidents

Hermione awoke Saturday morning to an insistent pecking at her window. She groaned and tentatively rolled out of her bed. When she swung the windows open, the owl swooped in, circled her bed once and flew out again.

Hermione looked curiously at what it had dropped on the bed, a small brown parcel. She had a good idea of what it was. She approached the bed, lifted the gift, and removed the brown paper wrapped around it.

She frowned and shook her head disdainfully.

She held in her hand a black velvet box.

After flicking her wand at it and transferring it to the sender's mother, she went for a shower to start her day.

* * *

To say Draco was angry when he went to sit for breakfast, would have been putting it quite mildly. He snatched the box from the seat and slammed it on the table beside his plate, causing the dishes and silverware to rattle. He glared at his mother.

She refused to acknowledge his fit and continued reading her society column.

"_Mother_," he finally said as he loudly strummed his fingers on the table.

"Yes?" she asked without looking up from her paper. She brought her morning tea to her lips.

"Could you explain to me how _this_," he lifted the box, "keeps finding its way into my chair?"

His father had stopped reading the Prophet and sat curiously watching the exchange.

His wife had still not diverted her attention from her paper or breakfast.

"_Perhaps_, if you did what you agreed to, it would stop returning to you," was all she said.

He fumed as his father smirked at him mirthfully.

"It's not bringing itself to breakfast, _M__other_," he said angrily.

"Draco, darling, you are aware of what you agreed to, aren't you, or do I need to explain it to you?" She finally looked up at him but her words were said as if she spoke to a small child.

He rolled his eyes at her.

"Of course I'm aware. I don't _want_ to do it properly. You could _stop_ working against me, you know. _I_ am your child, not her."

"Yes, and I love you dearly. However, I don't _want_ to stop working against you, sweetheart, I want you to do what you said you would. You gave your word," she smiled and went back to her paper.

With an angry sigh, he shoved the box into his pocket, and not a moment too soon. The subject of his loathing entered the room, clad in a black dress and looking, if possible, more beautiful than she had the previous morning.

Most men his age would have appreciated their fiancé becoming increasingly attractive in their eyes. Conversely, Draco was angry- no, _livid_- about it. It seemed as though she mocked him right down to the very way she carried herself. He, of course, was completely unaware of the _training_ she had gone through and her diligent efforts to behave as she was expected to in her new society.

Narcissa was very proud of the girl, given her upbringing; she was very convincing. If she weren't quite so well known throughout the wizarding world, she could easily pass as a Pureblood. Even Lucius had to admit, albeit only to himself, that she was trying very hard to be sophisticated and adhere to their lifestyle. It was an impressive show, for a Mudblood.

Draco glared at her.

She sat down, aware of his angry looks and began preparing her breakfast, plucking a scone from a tray and pouring a cup of tea.

She lifted the lid from the sugar bowl and extracted one sugar cube forth; she reached for the second and froze when he spoke.

"Thought you didn't like black, Granger," Draco said.

It was a lame attempt at insulting her, mainly because there was so little that morning about her that could be insulted. As it was though, he was itching for a row with the girl.

She raised her brows derisively and continued with her task, removing her second sugar cube and returning the lid to the bowl.

She smirked as she stirred her tea. She took a sip, checking the flavor, before she turned to answer him.

"I said I could only stand so much of it because it's a dreary color, but I'm sure you haven't noticed I haven't worn black in…" she stopped and counted the days, "six days."

He was annoyed and angry. He wanted to irritate her as much as she irritated him. He wanted to get under her skin. There was only one problem. The words, the insults, just weren't coming to him.

Instead of having a witty reply, he only grunted and shook his head at his lack of sharpness that morning.

"We're leaving at three, mother," he said after he finished his breakfast.

Narcissa looked up quickly, suddenly very interested in what her son had to say.

"Where are you going?" she asked, knowing already that she wouldn't get an answer.

"Away. Out of town."

"How long will you be gone?"

"I don't know, five or six days."

Hermione sat in silence listening to their conversation. She, too, wanted to know where they were going. She was so used to being on the inner loop and knowing everything that was going on. If Harry had been going somewhere, all she had to do was ask to find out where. However, she was not dealing with Harry anymore. If Draco would not even divulge his destinations to his mother, there was no way he would reveal them to Hermione.

"Five or six days?" his mother responded. She sighed. "I'm leaving for Paris this evening; I have arrangements already that can't be changed."

They looked at each other in silence for several long minutes.

"I can't change my plans either." He looked at Hermione and quite sarcastically said, "You're a big girl. You'll be fine on your own for a few days won't you?"

In truth, she didn't _want_ to be in the house alone for _any_ number of days, especially not after the previous afternoon. What if … whatever it was decided to leave the darkness of the trees? Normally, she would have gone and stayed with Harry and Ginny for a few days, but the talisman hanging from her neck prevented that.

"Yes, of course. I'll…have Harry and Ginny stay with me," she said quietly, hoping her voice didn't betray her thoughts and feelings.

He looked back to his mother.

"Satisfied?" he asked her. He really wasn't concerned with the girl's well being. If anything happened to her, he would be far too far away to have prevented it. Maybe she would wander into the woods after all.

His mother glared at him, "Not really, but I suppose it will have to do."

"I could have Rodolphus come by and check on her, if it would make you feel better," Draco added hatefully with a devious smirk.

"No!" Hermione said quickly, and then added, "No, that won't be necessary. I'll be fine."

Both Draco and Lucius directed their attentions to her and examined her closely. Draco could tell the girl had a strong aversion to his uncle. Lucius could tell as well; however, he decided her abhorrence was justly founded. After all, she was a very smart witch.

"I don't know… perhaps it's a good idea, just to be sure," Draco said, narrowing his eyes at her.

"What are you playing at, Malfoy? I don't want that man anywhere near me," she snapped at him.

He had done it! Internally, he was cheering for himself gleefully at his accomplishment. Despite his shoddy start, he had managed to get under her skin and ruffle her feathers after all.

"Oh, come now, he's not _that_ bad," he added, suppressing the grin that wanted to cross his face.

"Enough, Draco," Narcissa said. She knew what he was doing. He was a tormentor, a right little devil.

He frowned at his mother for spoiling his fun, just when he was getting off to a good start.

Evil plots and schemes began twisting through his mind. Maybe, he _would_ have his associates come and check on her. After all, she had made him more miserable, humiliated, and angry in the previous week than he had ever been in his life. She deserved a _little_ distress didn't she? He decided to send out letters as soon as he returned to his office. Yes, he was a devil, a tormentor, and an arse even; but he had decided, she did, indeed, deserve what she'd be getting. One visitor for everyday he was gone, he couldn't have anything happening to his betrothed while he was away could he?

Hermione eyed him carefully. She didn't trust the sneaky little ferret, at all. It didn't help matters any that he was looking intently at his empty breakfast plate and grinning in a manner that made her insides clench. He was planning something, and she figured it had to do with the Lestranges.

* * *

By the time the sun was setting in the east, Hermione found herself standing in Draco's study, completely and utterly alone. She had been in the room when he and his father floo'd away.

She was thinking of the evil, knowing smirk that had been on his face when he left and said, "_Don't have too much fun without us, love_."

She'd be on edge the short time he had been gone waiting to find out what, exactly, he had planned.

She had floo'd Harry, but he and Ginny had plans to spend the evening with the Weasleys. Hermione was extremely bored. It was too late in the day to do anything outside, not that she particularly wanted to step foot outside in the dark. There wasn't any cleaning to do here, like there had been at her flat. She didn't cook. Even more frustrating was that had she been home, in her flat, she would have popped a bag of popcorn and put one of her favorite, old DVDs on. Wizards were truly missing out by not being able to enjoy Muggle films.

_No wonder they start playing with the Dark Arts, they're bored stupid all the time_, she thought dryly as she wandered the halls of the Manor.

She finally decided to spend the evening in the library. There were plenty of books there she hadn't read, or even heard of for that matter.

And so she went and she read for what must have been hours. However, she seemed to be interrupted every ten minutes by noises that made her jump. She was worried about so many various things that her mind was beginning to play tricks on her. She hoped they were tricks anyway. She was hearing the noises of old houses, only they were magnified one hundred fold by her paranoia.

After her quiet dinner in the library, her quiet evening took a turn for the worse. All her suspicions were proven right and she was surer than ever that Draco Malfoy was a bastard.

She was sitting, reading by glowing lamp light. The sofa she reclined on was facing away from the door to the room, so she did not see nor did she hear him enter. It wasn't until she could feel the heavy presence of someone behind her, looking over her shoulder that she even knew he was there. She flew off the couch, throwing the book haphazardly to the floor and spun around to face him.

Upon seeing his face, recognition flooded her mind and her eyes widened, much like a scared house-elf's. Her mouth was sagging open and she began backing away from him, though there was no exit on that side of the room.

He only smiled at her obvious fear of him. He was a handsome man. His sharp, defined features were softened by his olive complexion. His dark eyes were complemented by his dark eyebrows, which matched the dark color of his short, shaggy hair. His smile was the only thing unattractive about him. Grinning as he was, he looked like some crazed lunatic freshly sprung from St. Mungo's.

In his left hand he held a lush, ripe, red apple; in his right a gleaming, silver dagger.

He appraised her small, lean form as he approached her and the window she had trapped herself against.

Her mouth was dry from fear. Narcissa's words echoed in her head. It was a nightmare, only a nightmare, she had fallen asleep on the couch. She scrunched her eyes shut and counted to ten, when she opened them he was still there, only closer now. He was too close, if she were to be perfectly honest.

"Wha…what are you doing here?" she managed to squeak out.

Once, Hermione Granger was a very brave girl. Her Gryffindor instincts often led her to trouble. After the war, after all the death she witnessed, and after the supreme destruction of her heart, she was no longer so brave. She finally realized the world could be a very cold and cruel place. She realized some people, some men and women, were more sadistic and evil than she thought humanly possible. And it was much easier to be brave when she had two men with her.

She was afraid of Draco Malfoy, but not in the same way the feared the man before her. She feared Draco for his impetuous temper and his random mood swings. She feared this man…for everything about him. He moved like a predator, he gazed upon her like a predator. His very nature, his twisted morals and ideas of 'fun' were terrifying.

What was more terrifying than the _thought _of him, was having him in front of her in the flesh, and wielding a pristinely sharpened blade no less.

He didn't answer her. The silence was unbearable; only the soft slicing of the dagger through the apple broke it. He removed a slice and ate it. He sliced another piece and held it to her lips.

Her eyes were wide with fear. She reached up and took the fruit away, though she didn't eat it.

"Why are you here?" she asked again, finding her voice was stronger this time.

He reached into his coat and withdrew a piece of folded parchment. She prayed it wasn't what she expected it would be.

"It appears Draco sent me this letter asking quite nicely that I check in on his dear fiancé," he said with another dirty grin.

"I'm terribly sorry he bothered you, Mr. Lestrange, but I'm quite fine. You aren't needed here."

She started moving sideways around him. He stepped over so that she was still trapped between him and the window. He cocked his head to the side.

"Please, call me Rodolphus, love. After all, you're practically family. Don't you have a kiss for Uncle Rodolphus, then?" He said leaning in towards her menacingly.

She grimaced and pressed herself further against the window in an attempt to escape him.

He laughed at her, loudly, and moved away, pacing around the room like a hungry lion.

She couldn't stop the sigh of relief that escaped her lungs. She found her skin had become moist from fear and stress. She wanted him gone, the sooner the better.

"Really, I'm fine, you don't need to stay," she said, feeling slightly more confident.

He tossed the folded parchment onto the sofa she had been sitting.

"I know you'd like me gone, but I have my orders," he stated.

"Oh, and what would those be?" she asked.

"I'm to stay until sunrise, make sure the big, bad bogeyman doesn't come and whisk you away during the night. I'm not to let you out of my sight."

He sat on the sofa and placed his feat on the tea table in front of him. He continued slicing and eating his apple.

"Surely you're joking?"

He shook his head negatively.

"You think I _want_ to sit around babysitting a little Mudblood like you?" he asked irritably.

Her features hardened. It had been a long time since she had been called that.

"I need no babysitter. Feel free to leave!"

"Tell that to your _sweetheart_ when he gets back," Rodolphus said with a devious grin.

She growled furiously. She would _kill_ Draco Malfoy when he returned. If he wanted an all-out war, he would get one.

"Anyone ever told you 'you sound like a cat when you do that'?" he asked after biting into another slice of apple.

She directed her angry gaze to him for a moment before she spun on her heel and left the room, livid.

She was halfway to the stairs when she noticed the clicking of shoes on the floor behind her. She stopped and turned. He was lurking after her, true to his word and not letting her out of his sight.

She scowled.

"I'm going to bed."

He shrugged, slicing another piece of fruit and crunching it loudly.

"You aren't following me to bed."

He only stared at her and chewed.

She shifted nervously and continued on to her room. When she reached her door, she stopped and directed her attention to the man in the hall with her. He stood looking at her, obviously bored.

"You're _not_ coming in. You can go find something else to do."

He snorted at her, turned and looked around the hall. He whipped his wand out and transfigured a nearby bust of a long-deceased Malfoy into a squishy chair. He positioned the chair beside her door and planted himself in it.

Hermione watched him in shock, her mouth sagging slightly.

"Oh honestly! I don't need you sitting out here. Go away."

He acknowledged her by clasping his hands behind his head and stretching his legs out, making himself comfortable.

"Ugh," she groaned in frustration as she opened her door and stepped into her room.

"Sweet dreams, princess," Rodolphus drawled as she slammed the door.

She flicked her wand and cast a locking spell; though, she figured it would do as much to keep him out as it had Draco if he truly felt the need to come in. She knew it would be a long and agitated night.

* * *

She woke the next morning having slept restlessly. She had nightmares about the man; horrible nightmares, in which she had to call him Uncle Rodolphus and give him a kiss. She shuddered at the memory.

She did not know how long he stayed or if he even stayed all night. The house was empty when she finally left her rooms and the chair was gone.

She was amazed at how little she was finding to do and how boring life was at the Manor.

Harry and Ginny arrived at lunch. They were spending the night with her. She hoped Draco hadn't asked anyone else to stop by; perhaps if he had, they would leave if Harry were there.

Those thoughts were brushed away that evening when Gregory Goyle came bumbling into the dining room where the three friends sat eating dinner.

Again, Hermione's eyes opened as wide as saucers. Harry and Ginny looked curiously from her to the thug at the end of the table.

She swallowed her mouthful of food.

"I assume he sent _you_ a letter as well?" she asked.

The rotund man nodded at her.

"Figures," she said, rolling her eyes. She had already told Harry and Ginny about the previous night's encounter.

"You don't have to stay tonight, I'm here," Harry said.

"I have to," Goyle said with a shrug.

Harry looked at him curiously, waiting for something more; when nothing came he turned to Hermione who shrugged.

"Are you hungry, Goyle?" she asked politely.

"Yeah…I am…actually," he said as if just realizing the fact.

Ginny snorted, holding back her laughter.

Goyle sat at the opposite end of the table and ate. When Hermione, Harry and Ginny finished they left him to his gluttony.

It wasn't until near midnight that they saw him again. Hermione was taking her two friends to the salon to play a game of billiards, and that was where they found him.

He was sitting in a chair in front of a small table, which had a Wizard Chess set on it. He was staring at the board as though waiting for it to make its next move.

Harry looked at Hermione and she shook her head, she had no idea what he was doing. Harry approached the other man.

"Are you…are you playing?" Harry asked him hesitantly.

Goyle looked up at Harry as though he were a right nutter.

"Who the bloody hell would I be playing with?" Goyle asked.

All three Gryffindors were shocked. Those were quite possibly the most intelligent words ever uttered by Gregory Goyle.

"Sorry, it just looked like you …were… concentrating on a game…or something," Harry said as he ruffled his messy hair, thoroughly confused by the goon before him.

"Nah…just bored s'all," Goyle said.

The trio played a game of billiards and retired to bed, leaving Goyle in his chair by the chess set.

* * *

Harry and Ginny left late the next morning after breakfast.

Hermione wondered who of the Death Eater squad would be checking in on her that evening.

After lunch, she decided to forget about her visitors and planning her revenge; she opted to go for a ride instead. It was a sunny day for a change and she knew at least one of the animals was calm enough for her to ride.

She rode the entire length of the perimeter of the grounds, which was quite far. When she reached the south side, however, she stopped. The lake was before her, and the dark trees loomed ominously.

She knew she needed to turn away, to go back to the safety of the house. She knew and still she urged the horse forward, towards the source of the siren's song. The strings attached to her heart tugged fiercely, she was unsure she'd be able to leave if she wanted to.

It was remarkable really. It was a feeling akin to the Imperius curse. She felt almost as if she had no control over herself. She needed to answer the call and whoever the caller was. They were beckoning her; they needed her. Whispers drifted to her, hushed whispers that were impossible to understand. It sounded archaic and was most assuredly magical.

When she finally regained some sense of self, she found she was sitting astride her horse, at the very edge of the forest. She could see within the shadows of the trees for almost eight feet. Her eyes searched the gloom for her caller. At her position by the trees, the whispers were loudest, like a hissing filling her ears. It sounded disturbingly like Parseltongue. She remembered vividly the times she had heard Harry speak in the hissing language of snakes.

Leaves crunched, a twig snapped. The horse beneath her began prancing nervously, fighting stubbornly against the reigns and her grip. Its anxious snorts and whinnies were pulling her from the fog.

She blinked once. Twice. She was almost free of the charm. Her senses were coming back to her. It was so powerful this time.

Leaves and bushes rustled just within the darkness, another twig snapped, heavy breathing was audible.

The horse had had enough. It yanked against the stupid girl's hand and freed itself. Its piercing whinny broke the silence of the day and it reared angrily, tossing its rider to the ground.

Hermione felt her head slam against something solid. A deafening ringing filled her ears and she felt warm moisture seeping through her hair and trickling down her skull. Her vision was foggy and fading. She saw a dark figure towering over her before everything went dark. She had one thought before losing consciousness.

_I should have listened to Draco_.

* * *

Narcissa searched all over the house for the girl before calling for a house-elf to help find her.

The elf grabbed the woman's hand and Apparated her to the forest's edge. Narcissa gasped at the site before her.

Hermione was crumpled on the ground where the horse had dumped her. She could hear the animal still retreating to the house; the girl had been injured only moments before.

Bright red blood trickled from her head, through her hair, and over the stone she had slammed into. It was imperative she and the blood be removed.

Narcissa instructed the elf to take the girl back to the house as she _Scourgified_ the stone and checked for other traces of the precious red liquid. Once she was confident the area was cleansed, she hurried to the Manor to get the girl cared for.

* * *

Narcissa had paced beside Hermione's bed for an hour, fairly distraught by her lack of response. Before the healer had left, she said that Hermione would be fine in time. However, she still had not moved or stirred from her sleep.

Narcissa sat by her bed well after sunset. She didn't move until a hand touched her shoulder. She looked up quickly to see the face of Rabastan Lestrange looking down at her.

"What happened?" he asked softly. Though every bit as dark as his brother, he had a much gentler demeanor.

"I came back from Paris this evening, early, and couldn't find her. One of the house-elves took me to her. She was at the edge of the woods. She was thrown from one of the horses and hit a stone. Her head was bleeding badly." She looked fearfully at Rabastan.

He frowned and looked with concern at the girl in the bed.

"Did she even know what it was?" he asked.

"Draco wouldn't tell her. He just told her to stay away."

"I'm sure she'll be fine," the man said. "It's getting late, don't you worry about it anymore. I'll sit with her. You go get some sleep."

He pushed Narcissa toward the door and the two left the girl alone in the room to sleep.

However, peaceful sleep she would not find that night. Her dreams were plagued by terrible nightmares of the thing lurking in the darkness of the trees.


	12. Chapter 12: Headaches and Heroes

Hermione woke briefly between her troubled dreams over the course of Tuesday. She had no clue that both Rabastan Lestrange and Blaise Zabini had checked in, respectively, as instructed by Malfoy.

His intent had been to torment her with their presences in the house; however that was difficult to do, considering she was incapacitated. All he had accomplished in having his colleagues stop by was getting a bombardment of letters, telling of her injury and state, sent his way.

By Wednesday, Ginny, too, was worried about Hermione, having not heard from her since they left Monday morning. She floo'd to the Malfoy's and went in search of her friend.

She found Hermione still in bed, though awake and talking and Narcissa seated in a chair beside her.

They had discussed many things after Hermione woke up that morning, though she refused to speak of the events of Monday. Nor did they speak of Draco and his friends, and the fact that one of the Death Eaters had stopped by the house every night since Malfoy had left.

"Ginny!" Hermione said with a wide smile as her friend entered the room.

"Hey! I was worried about you…are you alright?" she asked, her brow creased with concern.

"Yeah, I'm fine, just a little bump on the head, I'm fine."

Ginny nodded.

"We were about to discuss plans for the wedding," Narcissa added.

Hermione sighed and rolled her eyes. She wanted to run from the room and disappear but still felt too tired to move, and she doubted her head could take the movement.

"Oh, wonderful!" Ginny beamed. "Did Hermione tell you about her idea?"

"It wasn't my idea Gin-"

"Of course it was."

"No really, I don't want to-"

"What was the idea?" Narcissa asked Ginny, ignoring Hermione's protests. She was well aware that the girl was going to be of no assistance in planning the nuptials.

The two women went on to discuss a Masquerade wedding much to Hermione's chagrin, and resolutely ignored her objections to it. Both of the women zealously supported the idea and thought it was the most brilliant thing they had ever heard of. Hermione grumbled angrily in the background.

She wanted no Masquerade wedding. She wanted no wedding at all, to be honest. She certainly didn't want to invite the hundreds of people the two chittering twits were discussing inviting. If it were up to her she would have worn jeans and a t-shirt down to the ministry and had it done there, very informal, quick and relatively painless.

Narcissa left the two friends sometime after midday.

"So, how are things here?" Ginny asked, after Hermione quickly shielded the room from eavesdroppers.

"I don't know…I don't _know_…I have so many questions and no answers. Draco and Lucius disappear for days at a time and don't tell anyone where they're going. He's had visitors in his study that he denies they were even there, though it's _obvious_ they were. There is something in the woods that he won't discuss and I'm afraid it's going to eat me. I'm terrified, to be honest. Not just from what's outside this house but also because of the people invited into it. Rodolphus makes my skin crawl." She rubbed her face and sighed. "It's _all_ giving me a headache, Ginny. There are so many questions and lies and secrets, and no apparent answers or truth."

"Have things improved any between you and Draco since last Thursday?" Ginny asked.

"Are you _kidding_? We argued every time we saw each other after that day. He purposely had all his Death Eater friends stop by this week simply to torture me. I just…I don't know if I can do this, Gin. I thought I could pull it off, but he's such an arse. I don't know if I can do it. I don't know if I can ever be nice to him."

Ginny reached over and grabbed one of Hermione's hands.

"You _can_ do it. You're the only one that can. I know it's probably really difficult, but you _can_ do it. You're Hermione Granger. You've overcome worse things than Draco Malfoy. Just remember, he's only a ferret, nothing to be afraid of," Ginny said reassuringly.

Hermione choked back a laugh through her tears.

"Thanks, Ginny. You're a good friend," Hermione smiled at the younger girl.

"How have things been with Lucius and Narcissa? As bad as with Draco?" Ginny asked.

Hermione wiped at her eyes and answered through her sniffles, her voice sounding thick.

"Well, obviously Narcissa has accepted me and she's been incredibly pleasant. She's _very_ perplexing. I thought surely she'd be the first to snub me. It's so odd; she's even been siding with me against Draco. I feel like I've entered some strange world where _nothing_ makes any sense."

"And Lucius?"

"I rarely see him and it's even rarer we speak. He pretty much just ignores me. Though," she furrowed her brow as she thought, "I dunno, I expected worse from him. He was always so cruel and hateful. I guess he's leaving all of that for Draco."

The girls sat in silence for several minutes.

"I can't believe I'm really doing this, Gin. I'm so scared; I don't _want_ to be married to him for forever. What if it's always like this? What if this is as good as it gets? What if there's never any kindness between us?" Hermione finally said and the tears began to flow freely from her eyes. She tried to hold back a panicked sob.

Ginny had no answers for her friend; she wrapped her in a tight hug and held her while she cried.

"I think I'm going to take another nap, Gin. My head is hurting again," Hermione said when her tears and sobs subsided.

"Alright, will you owl me in the next day or two?" Ginny asked as she stood and found her shoes and robe.

"Yeah, of course. Why don't you go talk to Narcissa about all that rubbish you two are so giddy about?"

"What, your wedding rubbish?" Ginny said with a smile.

"Yes, that. I don't want anything to do with it." She waved a hand at Ginny, "You two deal with it if you want. Just leave me out of it."

Ginny shook her head and laughed at her friend. "I'll see you later, Hermione."

"Bye, Gin," she mumbled already drifting to sleep on her pillow.

Hermione woke late Thursday morning when one of the house-elves popped into her room. She had slept through breakfast, though she found she wasn't hungry.

The elf, Lurkin, was the one that had brought her things from her flat. He gazed over the edge of her bed timidly.

"Is Miss awake now?" he asked quietly.

"Yes, Lurkin, I'm awake," she said with a yawn.

"Miss, the Master has returned. He wishes to speak with Miss today but you must come to his study," the elf wrung its little hands together as he spoke.

"Oh… alright. I'll…I'll come in a bit."

"Yes, Miss, Lurkin tells Master," he snapped his fingers and vanished.

* * *

Hermione rose from her bed for the first time in three days. Her head spun from the movement and throbbed painfully. The place where the stone had cut her was still tender and sore, though fully healed already.

She fumbled into her bathroom and managed to take a hot shower without injuring herself further. Her balance was skewed from her aching head. It took her much longer than normal but she managed to make herself presentable and started, what felt like, the impossibly long trek to Draco's study.

She had reached the door and had her hand on the knob when she froze. She could hear a conversation within. Draco and another, a voice she didn't recognize. She could understand very few of the words and it did her no good to stand in the hall attempting to eavesdrop. Not to mention, her head was hurting from standing up for so long.

She rapped softly on the door; mustering what little energy she had to do so. She stood in the hall waiting for the door to open, she really felt like she needed to lie down again. Just for a moment. She thought she'd just sit in the hall and wait for him to open the door. Just for a few minutes, just a quick break. She just wanted to rest her eyes a moment and let her head stop throbbing.

She did not feel herself sinking to the floor, nor did she realize she was quickly losing consciousness. She did not know two strong arms caught her, short moments before she would have cracked her head on the marble floor.

* * *

When she woke, she was laying on the green sofa in Draco's study. She heard a quill scratching behind her and attempted to sit up, only to find her head throbbing more painfully than it had been earlier that morning.

"What happened?" she asked quietly, with a hand shielding her eyes from the light of the room.

"You passed out in the hall. Were my father not there to have caught you, you would have given yourself another concussion," Draco said in a bored tone as he steadily scratched away.

"Your father?" she asked in confusion. What was it with Lucius Malfoy being her knight in shining armor lately? He was really starting to ruin his reputation in Hermione's eyes as an evil, vile, cruel man with all of his altruism. For someone who seemed to try _very_ hard to pretend she didn't exist, he had a knack for saving her from unfortunate circumstances.

"Yes, I _said_ my father. You aren't going to make me repeat _everything_ are you?" he asked, clearly annoyed.

"Oh do shut up, or get on with whatever you wanted to see me about."

"I wanted to see you to yell and curse at you, but it's hard to do when you're lying on a couch and moaning about your head," he said dryly.

"I haven't moaned about my head…"

"Yet…" he added.

"Oh honestly, Malfoy, what the hell do you want? I need to go back to bed," she said. She wrapped her arms around her head; she needed something, anything, she'd even settle for Muggle medication.

She heard the quill drop and the chair roll away from the desk. She heard his footfalls approaching her position, though she didn't uncover her eyes. She felt his presence beside her as he sat on the table in front of the couch. She could smell his expensive cologne.

He sighed.

She finally dropped her arms and looked at him. His face was in his hands and he looked tired.

"What?" she asked softly.

"You stubborn, _stupid_ woman," he said quietly. "Do you have any idea what you've done?"

"Obviously not. You didn't tell me much about… anything. Remember?"

"I told you to stay _away_ from the trees. _Why_ couldn't you listen?"

"It wasn't my fault! I didn't mean to go down there. Something happened, I just… it was like the _Imperius_ curse, I…I didn't really have control."

"Yes, I know. _That_ is why I told you to stay away…" he sighed and dropped his head towards the floor.

"Is this _all_ you wanted? _I_ know I should have stayed away, it _is_ _my_ head that is hurting," she said dryly, sitting up with great difficulty.

"See, I knew you'd complain about your head," he griped. He didn't look up from the floor as he quietly said, "It was a Wendigo."

Her head snapped up to look at him, causing a painful shockwave through her skull.

"What?" she asked fearfully as she scrunched her eyes shut, fighting the intense pain that had followed her movement.

"A Wendigo. Granger, we discussed this whole not making me repeat myself thing already." He finally looked up at her.

"Why didn't you tell me?" she asked in a whisper.

"Come on, Granger, you're smarter than that. Why _would_ I tell you? There's a Wendigo on my property and you're as thick as thieves with the whole Auror department. You do know what that would have meant for me, don't you?"

She nodded. It was an immediate sentencing to Azkaban, something akin to harboring Vampires or amassing an army of Werewolves. Wendigos were possibly some of the vilest dark creatures to roam the world. Few were believed to remain but it was impossible to know because rarely did anyone live to tell about them if they had seen one. If what he said was true, she had been incredibly fortunate.

"I wouldn't have told them," she whispered.

"I'm _sure_ you wouldn't," he said sarcastically. "It doesn't matter now, it will be gone by tomorrow. But that's the least of your- our- problems now."

"What? Why?"

He sighed in annoyance.

"Greyback, Granger. He brought the Wendigo here."

"_What_?! _Why_!?"

"Is there an echo in this room?"

She looked at him angrily and he rolled his eyes.

"The Dark Lord summoned it here during the war. He thought it would be a _wonderful_ addition to his evil army. He thought of all wizards, _he_ could control the beast. After his fall, it wasn't sent back to the Black Forest. It has been wandering the Isles since then. Greyback happened upon it at some point after the end, when he disappeared. You know the Wendigos are something similar to the grandfathers of the Werewolves, he felt obligated to help it-him-… it… return to Germany. He brought him here, Merlin knows why." Draco sighed heavily and ran his hands through his hair, thoroughly disheveling it. " At any rate, Greyback is slightly upset that… it… has to leave so early, he had been planning on it staying longer."

Hermione gaped at him. "Why would _anyone_ want it to stay _longer_? Death follows those things wherever they go."

"He had his own plans, they are irrelevant now. But he blames this on you. He says you brought this about because you didn't listen to me."

"But…"

Draco snorted at her, "You know how _fragile_ relations with the Werewolves are. Since the end, Greyback has trusted very few, I _was_ among those few. I don't know where I stand with him now. You have single handedly turned his army against you…possibly me as well. He already had a penchant for woman flesh; you can rest assured that after this he'd love to get his hands on you."

She gaped at him fearfully.

"You act like I did it on purpose… I had no idea! This…isn't…this is _not_ my fault!" she stood as she yelled at him, causing her head to pound harder.

He stood too, not liking her standing above him. "The full moon is tomorrow, he is more aggressive now anyway. He will do _something_ to release his anger but I'm sure amends can be made after that. I'm also sure it's going to cost me… somehow. If I were you, I wouldn't do anything to provoke him further. I can only protect you so far." He ran his hands through his white-gold hair again.

"I'm sorry," she said quietly, looking at the floor, "I'm so sorry. I didn't know."

"Yes, well. I've decided to punish you for not listening."

Her head snapped up, the tears that were building in her eyes leaked down her cheeks.

"I'm sorry?" she asked.

"I'm punishing you… and protecting you, if you want to call it that, but I prefer to see it as a punishment." He sneered at her maliciously; his eyes sparkled with mischief. "I'm warding the house, you can't leave it now. Not until this with Fenrir blows over, at least."

"_What_? House arrest? Please tell me you aren't serious, Draco."

He looked at her curiously, his brow furrowed. He was slightly perplexed by hearing his name from her lips. It was such a rare thing, and slightly shocking every time.

"I…_Yes_… I _am_ serious. You aren't leaving the house. You clearly aren't concerned with your own well being," he did not mention what his own thoughts on the matter had been before he left her alone over the weekend, before she nearly died.

"This is …" she raised a hand to her head, feeling exceedingly dizzy, "ridic… ridiculous…"

She tried to focus on something but her vision blurred. She reached out for the closest thing to grab hold of as she began to plummet to the ground again, that thing being the front of Draco's silk shirt.

She collapsed against him and he caught her full weight as her body wilted.

"Bloody hell, Granger, this is getting old," he muttered as he scooped her limp form up and carried her back to her room. He made sure to have the elves give her a stronger pain potion.

* * *

Draco sat in his father's dark sitting room, sipping a glass of brandy and gazing pensively into the fire. He heard the door open behind him but didn't bother to acknowledge it. He felt the person move near him and sit in the leather chair beside him. He recognized, almost instantly, the sweet, floral scent of his mother. She had smelled like that his whole life.

"You've been drinking too much, Draco," she said after several minutes of silence.

He shrugged and turned his glass up.

"I know the last few weeks have been extremely stressful but you really _must_ find another way of handling everything. Do you want her to think you're a drunk?" she asked quietly.

"I don't really care _what_ she thinks, mother."

It was a lie. He did care. He didn't _want_ to care and he didn't want to admit he cared, but he had always cared. Even when they were children he cared what she thought of him. He cared what they _all_ thought of him, hell, even Potter and that disgusting Weasley. He cared because he had to be better than them.

She knew that. Looking at her son, she could see the weight the years since the war had put on him. He looked older than his age. It didn't help matters any that he rarely slept. He had only enough each night to keep away the hallucinations during the day, never more.

She felt it was her fault. It was as much her fault as it was Lucius'. They had done this to him. They had taught him everything he knew and raised him to live in a world that was destined to collapse. His perfect world had shattered, much in the way Hermione's own had, and he didn't know how to deal with it.

He wasn't in the position they had told him he would be. He wasn't the prince he was raised to believe he was. The power had waned from his family. Though the money was still there, the respect was gone. Their name no longer incited cowering and groveling. He was lucky to be served in Diagon Alley of late. All in all, it made him bitter and angry, at everyone.

And now, he found that the family's deep roots in the dark arts had entangled him in the midst of yet another brewing storm. A tempest he wanted to be no part of. He wanted only to rebuild his family name, regain the respect he deserved, and be the king he was born to be. He wanted nothing of wars and fighting, they were below someone of his stature.

Yet, here he found himself, on the brink of the next great darkness. He felt like a seer, gazing into a crystal ball and seeing everything that would come to pass; knowing no matter how hard he tried, he could not rid himself of this plague that had attached itself to him.

But then there was Granger. The Gryffindor princess, _the_ Mudblood, she stood for everything right, and good, and pure. She stood for the light and he for the darkness. They were polar opposites and she would have to save his soul before it was all said and done. But how could she, when he didn't think he'd ever be able to trust her. She couldn't help him without knowing what was truly burdening him, if she even wanted to help him at all.

Narcissa feared for her son. She feared for his soul and his humanity. She feared he might lose them both for good if something did not change. She lay awake every night worrying about the things he had to face. Things Lucius had helped bring upon him but was helpless to free him from. He had no choice but to stand by his son and help him through it in any way possible.

The Malfoys were the figurative Grigori of the Wizarding world; they were the fallen angels and Granger would deliver them. She had to. They were beyond saving themselves.

"You need to sleep, Draco," she said softly as the large clock chimed-in the coming of a new day.

"I will," he muttered.

She stood from the chair and kissed her son's forehead. She rustled his silky white hair and smiled at her memories of him as a small boy.

He was such an innocent angel, untouched and untainted by the evils of the darkness. Now in that innocent child's place was a tortured man. A man desperately in need of something he had never experienced, something only someone of the light could give him.

* * *

When he finally left his father's sitting room it was early in the morning, half passed two. He walked the dimly lit corridors back to his room, his shoes echoing in the silent halls. Another storm had come and lightening flashed outside the large windows, illuminating the hallway brightly for brief seconds. The flashes created eerie shadows in the corridors, they brought to life the many statues and busts that lined the walls.

He fingered his wand in his trouser pocket. It was always with him, he had learned early on to carry it at all times. Things on the dark side had a tendency to jump out of shadowed corners when least expected.

He was in his hall, approaching his room when he heard her. He didn't know how long it had been going on or why none of the elves had heard, but the piercing scream chilled him to the core.

He burst into her room, expecting to find Fenrir… or worse.

Light filled the room and revealed it to be empty, only then did his heart stop pounding painfully in his chest.

The girl thrashed in her bed, her sheets twisted and tangled around her legs. Her hair was stuck to her face, which was shining with perspiration and tears. She cried out again and sobbed. Her nightmare-induced moans were worse, by far, than the shrill scream he had heard. She cried like a child that needed desperately to be held. Something haunted her in her dreams.

He cautiously approached the flailing girl. He had heard of people having such nightmares and night terrors but had never seen one before. He hoped he could wake her because he couldn't deal with her crying like that all night.

He grasped her shoulders and shook her.

"Granger! Granger, wake up!" He shook her again. He sighed before reaching out and slapping her moist cheek.

Her eyes shot open and she immediately wrapped her arms around his neck in a death grip, causing breathing to be difficult. She sobbed against his shoulder holding him tightly to her. He was frozen, finding himself in unfamiliar territory.

He slowly reached up and peeled her arms away from him so he could take a step away to safety. She sat upright in her bed and looked back at him through teary eyes, shuddering as she tried to right her breathing. He glanced at his shoulder; his black silk shirt was soaked with her tears.

_Ruined_, he thought somberly as he eyed the damp fabric.

He shook his head and turned to leave her room.

"Please…"

He stopped and turned to look at her with a frown.

"Please stay." She looked at him fearfully, and glanced around at the shadows of the room, "Just until I fall asleep, please."

She sounded like a small, scared child. And, Merlin help him, something was coming over him. Some alien feeling to make her feel safe. He huffed angrily at the momentary weakness that had crept upon him. He felt pathetic. He wasn't supposed to feel things like this. He wasn't supposed to want to…_comfort_ her.

"Fine," he muttered, perturbed at his latest character flaw.

He crossed to the empty side of the bed and sat on it, propping all the unused pillows behind him. She lay down again with her back to him and shut her eyes to try to sleep. He did not know how long he sat in the darkness, minutes perhaps, but it felt like hours.

He looked around the room and saw the book she had been reading over the past few days on her beside table. He _accio'd_ the book and with the bedside lamp glowing softly, set into it.

Hermione had long since fallen asleep when Draco's eyes drifted shut. His hands still cradled the open book in his lap and the lamp still dimly illuminated the room. The soft tapping of the rain on the windows soothed them both into a deep sleep, like a lullaby.

* * *

It was shortly after dawn when he woke with a start. The book tumbled from his lap to the floor beside the bed. He blinked fiercely trying to remember what had happened the previous night and how, in Merlin's name, he wound up in Hermione' room; however, thankfully fully clothed and on top of the duvet. It slowly came back to him and his anger over his uncontrolled and unfamiliar emotions grew hot.

He looked beside him; she still slept peacefully. He rose quietly, trying not to disturb the bed at all. If he were careful, she would never know what had happened. She would think he had left when she fell asleep. She would not know of his short-lived weakness. What had he been thinking anyway?

The most bewildering thing of all, he decided as he crossed the hall to his own room, was that he had not slept so well in a very, _very_ long time. What the devil was that about?

He reminded himself to inquire to his mother about the mattresses; perhaps the girl had a better one than he had.

Yes… that explained it perfectly.


	13. Chapter 13: A Curious Ailment

Hermione arrived at the breakfast table later than normal. Taking in her appearance, Draco decided she looked well enough rested. Perhaps she did not recall what had transpired in the early morning hours. He could hope.

Breakfast was an odd affair. For the first time in the two weeks since she had arrived, no one spoke for the length of the meal. The silence was unnerving. She had just finished her honeyed croissant when the quiet was finally broken.

"Are you feeling better, dear?" Narcissa asked her.

"Yes, much, thank you," Hermione answered softly.

She sat without speaking, unsure of what else to say and the silence enveloped them again for several moments.

"Everyone is coming for dinner tomorrow night," Draco said, looking at his mother.

"_Everyone_?" she asked, looking up from her morning column.

"Yes," Draco said sourly, clearly not happy about whomever 'everyone' referred to.

Hermione looked back and forth between the two of them.

"Well…alright," Narcissa finally said. She was unsure of what response he wanted.

He, however, relayed the message with his eyes, looking from her to Hermione and back to her again.

"_Honestly_, Draco!" she said, perturbed with her son and what his looks told her.

"Will you then?" he asked.

Hermione frowned at the cryptic conversation.

"Excuse me but…" she finally interrupted, "_what_ is going on?"

Draco ignored her and continued to look at his mother. His mother continued to glare at the impertinence of her son.

"Yes, _Draco_, I will take care of it," she muttered angrily. She pushed away from the table and left the room in a rustle of robes.

Hermione huffed angrily. Obviously she wouldn't find out what all of _that_ was about until Saturday.

"Tonight is the full moon," Lucius said after he set his daily paper on the table beside his empty plate.

"I'm aware," his son replied.

Hermione was becoming extremely angry at being ignored. She stood and left the room, her dark green, velvet dress billowing around her as she stormed away. She had no idea where she was going to go.

She stopped and looked out of one of the hall windows that faced the inner rose garden. She was thankful it was another dreary, drizzly day. Not that it mattered; she couldn't leave the house even if it were nice out. Just the same, it was better that the weather was dreadful. It allowed her to pretend she was staying in by choice.

She had no other option; there was only one place to go when she had nothing to do and nowhere to be. She changed her direction and walked the long corridor to the library.

She made herself comfortable in front of the warm, crackling fireplace and started reading in the book she had abandoned the night Rodolphus dropped by. She lost track of all time; not even her grumbling stomach pulled her away from the literature on the pages before her.

* * *

She let loose a startled squeak when a masculine voice broke the comforting silence of her sanctuary.

"You missed lunch," Draco said, walking slowly around the divan to stand between Hermione and the burning fire.

She frowned; he had made her lose her place on the page.

"I wasn't hungry," she muttered as she scanned the paragraphs trying to find the words she last read.

Draco examined the young woman before him. She looked small and very feminine as she reclined on the elegant piece of furniture. The dark shade of the dress made her look somewhat fuller and rounder than she was. It masked her thin, almost boyish, frame. She wasn't as curvy and voluptuous as the women he was used to, but it was hard to imagine her in any way other than thin and small. It suited her.

Her tamed curls were anchored into a ponytail on the back of her head. Some of the shorter swirls of hair had escaped entrapment and framed her face, softening her features. The dresses' stand up neck, while hiding most of the appealing flesh of her throat, dipped into a low vee. The pendant lay on her chest, drawing his eyes to her pale, creamy breastbone. The neckline of the dress exposed more flesh than he thought decent. He could only thank Merlin that she wasn't well endowed; otherwise he would have been thoroughly distracted.

What was the matter with him? He was ogling Granger, of all people, _Granger_! He shook his head and sighed, surely this was the first sign of madness. Angrily, he tried to banish the thoughts from his mind.

"Did you need something?" she asked. She had looked up from her book when she heard his sigh. She had not realized he was still standing in the room, and blocking her fire at that.

He shifted nervously. He felt sick. He knew he had to get it over with but all he really wanted to do was flee and hide under a large rock. His eyes darted around the room, as if reassuring himself of the multiple exits and paths to freedom. His breathing had quickened and his palms were beginning to sweat. He couldn't honestly do this. He just _couldn't_. His mother would kill him if he didn't, but he couldn't do it. He reached up to loosen the collar of his shirt, but found it to already be unbuttoned.

Hermione looked at him oddly with her brows knitted together.

"What are you up to?" she asked, becoming nervous due to his skittish behavior.

He ignored her, still deep in the midst of an internal war. He was finding it hard to convince his self to go through with it. He had made it all the way down here, brought the damned thing with him, stood before her and gave her a thorough looking over, and now he would have to run away looking like an idiot. He simply _couldn't_ do it. He didn't _think_ he could anyway.

Could he?

"Malfoy!" she finally said, trying to pull him from his disturbing silence. She put the book on the tea table beside the sofa and stood. She felt highly uncomfortable with him towering over her and acting like the twitchy ferret he was.

_It's only Granger_, one of the gladiators in his mental struggle said, _You have no problem with all the dodgy characters you deal with on a daily basis, why is she so intimidating?_ He thought about that a moment before the other opposing voice answered, _because it's Granger!_

"Malfoy, are you feeling alright?" she asked, genuinely concerned, as she took a step towards him.

He really did look sick. His skin had turned pallid and he looked like he was sweating.

"_Merlin, help me_!" he whispered harshly before dropping to his knees before her.

Her eyes widened as she realized his ailment. An evil smirk crossed her lips and she looked down at the angry patrician kneeling before her.

"Yes?" she said sweetly.

"I hate you. I hope you know that. I really, _really_ hate you," he muttered, glaring up at her.

"That's really sweet of you, Draco. I'm happy you have such _strong_ feelings towards me." Her smile widened at his angry mutterings and looks of pure loathing. "You were saying?"

"I _hate_ you," he spat again.

"You're really bad at this, you know," she said, losing her patience with him. Was it really that hard?

He sighed heavily and reached into his pocket, drawing forth the cursed black box.

"Granger-" he started.

"No… I hardly think _that's_ appropriate for _this_ situation, _Draco_," she said. This was absolutely fantastic! She couldn't wait to tell Harry and Ginny about it.

He clenched his jaws and glared at her, if it were possible, harder.

"_Hermione_," he said through his teeth, "willyoumarryme?" He said it so quickly it was completely unintelligible.

"Pardon?" she said. "You'll have to speak a little slower."

He growled at her and muttered under his breath, "_Hate_ you!"

"Will…you…" he paused and ground his teeth loudly, causing Hermione to grimace, "marry…me?"

"Was that so hard?" she asked him, smiling wider than ever.

"_Yes_! I'm glad you're enjoying this, but do keep in mind that you'll get yours, _Granger_," he said, still glaring at her through his furrowed brows. He shoved the box towards her.

"That's not how this works, _darling_," she said in her most saccharine voice. "First, I say, 'Oh, Draco, my love, of course!'"

He growled again clearly quite furious at the situation. He prayed to Merlin and all his apprentices that this would be over soon before his father, or _worse_, his mother showed up.

"And _then_," she said, continuing her narration of the scene, "you stand up…"

She paused, looked at him expectantly and waited on him to act out his part, which he did, although furiously.

"And take the ring from the box and put it on my finger." She smiled at him warmly and held her left hand forward.

_For the love of Salazar! Why the devil did I get myself into this! I just __**had**__ to go and make a wager on a damned game of billiards,_ he thought angrily as he flung the box lid open and ripped away the silver ring from within. The box fell carelessly from his hands to the floor and tumbled under the couch.

He reached out and gripped her small hand roughly, squeezing much tighter than he needed to. He slipped the ring on the designated finger and dropped her hand instantly.

She looked at his face and sighed. Her expression revealed nothing. He continued to glare at her. Then, she did something that nearly gave him a heart attack and ended his young life prematurely.

She stepped forward, closing the distance between them, placed her hands on his cheeks and pulled his face down towards her. He hadn't the presence of mind to fight at all; she may as well have cursed him for he was petrified.

She kissed his lips, softly, chastely. It was the same way she kissed her father when she was younger or the way she would kiss Harry. It was an entirely innocent kiss.

She released his face and gently patted his cheek.

"That was lovely. I'm _so_ proud of you," she said patronizingly before retaking her seat on the sofa and returning to her book.

He stood gaping at her, fairly well horrified. He wasn't entirely sure _what_ had just happened. Slowly, he glanced around the room, looking for any hidden observers to _that_ little incident.

Finding no one present aside from her, whom he wished more than anything he could kill at that very moment, he glared at her one last time before stalking out of the room.

She grinned widely into her book as she heard him slam the door and yell several choice profanities in the hall.

Whatever revenge he decided to send her way, it was well worth every second of it.

She lifted her hand and examined the ring for the first time. It was quite lovely; though he had few redeeming qualities, he _did_ have good taste.

It was obviously of an antique design. The engraved filigree around the silver band told her that much. A beautiful round diamond was set at the apex, flanked by smaller glittering ones. She had expected an emerald but was extremely pleased that he had not incorporated serpents or that dreaded color into the design.

She slipped the ring off her finger to examine it further. She was truly impressed. Though he had not asked of anything she would like, he had chosen exactly what she would have wanted. It was simple, yet elegant and exquisitely beautiful. Obviously, it was far more expensive than anything she would have wished for, but all the same, she loved it.

She spun the silver ring in her fingers. She froze when she saw an inscription on the inner band. Holding it closer so she could read the words, she gasped. She was almost certain her heart stopped as she read what was written there.

Tuebor ab hince

She didn't realize she was holding her breath as she gazed at the words. She had an idea of what it was but wanted to be sure.

She scoured the library for a Latin dictionary. Finally finding one, she searched for the words until she knew for certain she had the translation correct. Her heart pounded and her chest felt like a weight was upon it.

Translated loosely it read, _I will protect you, from here on._

* * *

Hermione made sure not to miss dinner. She was positively starving by that time. Dinner turned out to be not much different than breakfast. It was eaten in relative silence.

The ring on her hand glittered brightly in the chandelier light. Both Narcissa and Lucius immediately noticed the jewelry. Lucius looked at his son with a mix of humor and sympathy. Narcissa had smiled warmly at Hermione and winked at her.

Draco did not look up from his plate or speak for the length of the meal. When he finished, he rose and left the room without a word. Hermione stood as well.

"Excuse me," she mumbled as she left in pursuit of Draco. She wanted to speak to him.

She caught up with him at the top of the stairs. He was walking away from her briskly in the direction of their rooms.

"Malfoy," she called after him, walking faster to catch up.

He ignored her and continued walking.

"_Draco_!" she yelled.

He sighed and stopped. He did not turn around to face her. He had his eyes closed and tilted his head to the side as he flexed his jaw. He looked as though he were using every bit of his strength to suppress the demons that resided within him. They wanted badly to lash out at the girl.

She caught him quickly once he stopped. His arms hung straight at his sides and he still didn't look at her. She started to walk forward slowly but he remained in place in the hall where he stopped. She turned around and stepped back to him. Looping an arm under one of his limp ones, she began to pull him down the hall.

"Look…I just wanted to tell you…" she sighed, "I know that was difficult for you but…uh… I appreciate you keeping your word... well… eventually anyway. And uhm…well…what I mean to say is… you have good taste."

"I know," he muttered.

She glared at him. "I'm trying to be nice to you, you git."

"Granger, that was a _bit_ of a contradiction. You can't say you're trying to be nice to me and then call me a git in the same breath."

She held her left hand before her and looked at the ring again. "I really do like it though. It's very pretty." She wanted to ask about the inscription but held her tongue.

"Wonderful," he said in a bored monotone, sounding eerily like Severus Snape.

She frowned. What he had in taste, he lacked severely in attitude.

"Anyway, I just wanted to say…thank you," she released his arm and continued walking down the hall towards her bedroom door.

He shoved his hands in his pockets and looked at her retreating form in irritated disbelief.

"_Why_ are you thanking me?" he asked. He couldn't stand it; it would bother him all night if he didn't find out. "It's not like it was a romantic, sincere proposal. I _don't_ love you. I don't really even like you."

She stopped and turned around to face him, now being several meters down the hall.

"I know that. I never assumed you did. But I am a person, Malfoy. Even if it didn't really mean anything, it was better than just being a contract." She looked at him sadly one final time before turning and entering her room.

He shook his head at her. He would never understand the way women thought.

* * *

It was well after midnight when Draco sat straight up in bed with his eyes flung open. He had been soundly asleep only seconds before.

_Something isn't right_, he thought. It reverberated in his mind repeatedly. Something was _not_ right. It was a slightly familiar pull, but he couldn't place where it was coming from.

He glanced at the silver Malfoy crest ring on his right hand.

He stood from his bed, slipped his soft, housecoat on, and grabbed his wand before stepping out into the hall.

He hesitated outside of Hermione's door for several minutes. She wasn't screaming but he was still sure _something_ was off. Quietly, he pushed the door open and stepped in. His eyes flicked around the darkness quickly looking for any thing out of place.

Another storm had blown over the house sometime after he fell asleep. It was the rainy season, yes, but this was the worst yet.

Lightning flashed all around the house. Surely, it was striking the grounds repeatedly. Ear shattering cracks followed the electric flashes. Seconds later, deep rumbling would follow. The house practically vibrated from the violence of the tempest.

Everything appeared to be fine in her room except for her. She was thrashing about in her bed, yet again. She hadn't gotten as far as the shrieking but she was mumbling quietly in her sleep. He moved closer to the bed to hear what she was saying.

"No…_please_…no. Let him go…"

She started sobbing harder.

He couldn't stand it any longer. He grabbed her shoulders as he had the night before and shook her around a bit to wake her while calling her name. This time she responded and her eyes shot open.

Lightning flashed and cracked loudly at that moment causing her to shriek.

He released her shoulders and she slumped back onto the pillows.

"What were you dreaming about?" he asked out of curiosity.

"They were coming… it was dark…so dark," she mumbled, her brain still clouded by sleep.

"Whom did you want _them_ to let go?" he asked as he circled the bed to the unused side.

"I don't know," she said. After several moments, she spoke again, "Harry?"

"_Harry_? I sincerely hope you aren't confusing me with Potter, Granger."

"Draco?" she asked. She blinked her eyes several times trying to wake up enough to form a coherent thought.

"Yes?"

"Oh…" she whispered.

"What was your dream about?" he asked again.

She sat quietly trying to remember everything. It was the same dream she had had for several nights now, since the unfortunate encounter with the Wendigo. The same recurring nightmare, only tonight she had been woken before the truly horrible part came.

_She had been in a clearing in the woods. She couldn't see them but she knew they were there. They were closing in. So many of them. _

_And there was Harry. In the center of the clearing, he was shirtless and on his knees. His arms bound behind him to his feet, preventing him from moving. He looked thoroughly thrashed, as if he had taken a real beating. Harry looked right at her and started yelling at her to look out and run but no words came. _

_She didn't know what was happening until it was too late. They emerged from the trees and formed a circle around Harry, closing in on him. Werewolves. So many. That's when she started saying 'No, please, let him go'. In her dream she had shrieked his name but it was as though he was the only one who could see her and he couldn't hear her nor could she hear him. _

_She had spun around to see what was happening and was face to face with another of the monsters. She heard a strangled yell and with wide, terrified eyes turned back to where Harry was. She knew what followed that noise and she wanted so badly to prevent it. _

Only now, it wasn't Harry any longer, it was Malfoy. And she could hear him. He was saying her name 'Granger… Granger… Granger', then she woke up with him shaking her.

The dream didn't usually end like _that_, though she had to admit, it was much better than normal. She looked up at Malfoy's face, suddenly feeling a little awkward that he had made his way into her nightmare, and shirtless at that.

"Werewolves," she said softly.

He was about to say something when he heard it.

In a momentary break between the deafening cracks and booming thunder, a piercing howl could be heard. It made the flesh on his skin crinkle and he shuddered. _That_ was what was off. _That_ was what wasn't right. He glanced at the girl beside him and saw the ring firmly in place on her left hand.

Yes, that was what the pull had been.

"Did you hear that?" Hermione whispered quietly. Her eyes were wide and looked into his fearfully.

He nodded at her.

She looked around the dark room nervously, clutching the bedding close to her face as though it might shield her from some unknown horror. She looked back at the man beside her.

"Can they…" she couldn't say it. It was too scary.

"No," he answered flatly, knowing what she meant to ask.

"Are you _sure_?"

"Positive, Granger. Now shut up and get some sleep," he said irritably.

"I can't," she whispered. Tears threatened to spill down her cheeks.

He rolled his eyes but in the darkness of the room she couldn't appreciate it.

"Just shut up and lay down," he snapped.

She did as he said but didn't shut her eyes. She lay looking at his shadowed profile for several minutes until she could no longer control the urge to speak.

"Are you staying?" she asked.

"I can leave if you'd prefer…" He moved to get up.

"No! Please… don't."

It was that pathetic, pleading, '_Save-me-Draco'_ voice. The one that made him feel funny and do stupid things.

"I'll only stay if you _shut up_," he stated rather rudely.

She lay back down, having propped herself up on her elbows. With a final fleeting look at the shadowed room, she rolled onto her side and made herself comfortable. Tonight, however, she did not turn her back to him. She wanted to face him to make sure he didn't sneak off and leave her at the mercy of the werewolves. Her imagination was running rampant with thoughts of the vile beasts crashing through her bedroom window to drag her off into the rainy darkness.

The minutes ticked by and she faltered in her vigilance. Her eyes fluttered shut and she drifted to sleep.

Despite what his logical mind was telling him, Draco resigned himself to spending another night in her bed; though…not in the most enjoyable way he could think of. To be perfectly honest, he was a tad bit chilly. He was too tired to consider transfiguring a blanket. He simply accepted his fate of dying a slow, cold death due to hypothermia.

No matter how much he told himself he didn't want to be there, he couldn't force himself to leave. He couldn't put his finger on why that was.

The reason behind that being because he had never had reason to feel the way he was feeling. He almost felt…_needed_. Never had a woman pleaded, practically begged, for him to keep her safe. Though most men would never admit it, being needed, being the protector was the keystone, the very bedrock, of manliness. They needed to be needed. It was a very basic, primal instinct.

No matter how hard the young Lord Malfoy might try to fight it, in the end he could not deny the way such a simple act made him feel: like a virile alpha-male. It was a boost to his already prodigious ego.

No, he did not love her. But plain and simple, she was _his_. In his mind, she belonged to him now, in the same way everything at the Manor belonged to him, in the way all the millions of Galleons in the Malfoy vault at Gringotts belonged to him. She was his to protect and keep safe- not that he truly cared for her well-being or so he told himself- not only because he had to now but …simply because. She belonged to him, it was very simple. And though he wouldn't admit it, she was extremely important to him. She was the future of his family's name and reputation, among other things.

He lay awake for quite some time listening to the scattered howls of the werewolves in the forest.

The rain pelted at the windows like tiny stones. With the force that the water hit the glass, one could almost imagine the window shattering on impact.

He did not begin to doze until after the storm had passed over. No longer was the room lit violently by flashes of light nor did the windows vibrate in their panes from the deep, rumbling thunder.

* * *

Hermione woke well into the mid-morning. Normally an early riser, it was what she would deem late even though most of the world would disagree.

This particular morning, something was different. Her chest felt crushed and it was harder than normal to breath. And she did feel quite warm, warmer than usual. She opened her eyes fully and tried to blink off her tiredness. It took several short moments for her thoughts to clarify and for her to realize the situation she found herself in.

There was a very heavy arm draped across her rib cage. She felt distinctly as though she were being crushed in the way a small child would crush a teddy bear.

She remembered vaguely the storm and waking up from her nightmares. And she remembered the howling and speaking with Draco. And…

Her eyes widened quite rapidly. She had half a mind to screech and throw his sorry arse from the bed. That would prove difficult, though, because she couldn't seem to move his stubborn arm.

Yes, she was quite sure now that he was sleeping soundly behind her. His slow, steady breaths puffed against her neck softly.

She really hoped to Merlin that he hadn't decided to be fresh and get _into_ her bed. Oh, she'd murder him for sure if he had taken those liberties, using her as a personal teddy bear was bad enough.

She tried one last time to pry his arm away from her midsection. Finally, she huffed angrily.

"Malfoy," she said in as calm a tone as she could manage.

Nothing.

"Malfoy," she said a little more irritably.

He moved slightly.

"Malfoy," she was on the verge of yelling.

He moaned something that sounded like 'Wha-tis-it?'

She narrowed her eyes.

"_Malfoy_!" she yelled loudly.

"Holy _shit_!" he hissed as he jumped slightly, rolled, flopped, and finally tumbled ungracefully from the bed.

She leaned across the bed to look over the edge at him, sprawled on the floor and blinking his eyes rapidly.

"What the hell?" he said quietly in a thick voice.

"Sorry," Hermione shrugged. "You wouldn't wake up."

"Huh?" he asked stupidly as he rubbed his eyes.

"Are you alright? Did you hit your head on that fall, Draco?" she asked, feigning concern.

"Where am I?" he asked groggily. Clearly, all of his cylinders were _not_ firing properly.

"_Hell_," Hermione said ominously.

"Piss off," he said as he stood weakly and stumbled to the door.

"I take it you're not a morning person then?" she asked, grinning from ear to ear.

He didn't answer. He stepped out of her room and threw her a rude hand gesture before the door clicked shut.

She laughed silently to herself, swung her legs over the bed, and was about to stand when the door swung back open. She looked up quickly.

Draco was standing in the cracked door, scowling at her through half open, sleepy eyes.

"This _never_ happened," he said sternly before shutting the door again.

Hermione smiled to her self as she got up and headed for the bathroom. She was thinking she might need to hurry down to breakfast and tell Narcissa about all the things that 'never happened'; anything for the sake of making Draco Malfoy's life, and morning, a little more miserable.


	14. Chapter 14: Torture and Tears

Hermione showered, dressed, and hurried to the dining room. Considering she had only woken minutes before, she was ready in what she considered record time. So it was to her utmost dissatisfaction that she entered the dining room to find one Draco Malfoy already tucking into his breakfast.

She frowned that she did not have the pleasure of discussing the morning's un-Draco-like behavior with his mother and thoroughly embarrassing him.

She took her usual seat and began placing her breakfast on her plate.

Both Lucius and Narcissa looked curiously at the other two. They found it very odd indeed that not only were both of the younger residents ridiculously late to breakfast, but they entered within minutes of each other. It was too suspicious to go unnoticed.

Lucius smirked and eyed his son in a knowing manner. At least, he _thought_ he knew. How wrong he was.

When Draco had his fill of his food, he turned his attention wholly to his parents.

He looked curiously at the look his father was giving him before he addressed his mother.

"Is everything ready, Mother?"

She dropped the daily column she had been reading and pursed her lips at him.

"_Yes_, it is ready, Draco. I don't know why you think-"

"Because I _know_ it's necessary. I'm not going to be embarrassed tonight."

She rolled her eyes at him and lifted her paper again, holding it high enough to block him entirely from her vision.

"Right. Well, busy day today. _Bonne chance_!" Draco said to his mother with a smirk as he left the room.

Hermione scowled at his retreating form.

She managed to be better than or be equal to Draco Malfoy at so many things, yet hearing French roll off his tongue in such a casual and natural manner made her perfectly green with envy. Her own French sounded horribly embarrassing and made it blatantly obvious she was a foreigner.

So he could speak beautiful French and fly a broom. Surely, she had her own talents he was terrible at. And she really meant terrible. Something he didn't come in second best at, something he was plain miserable at. She'd just have to figure out what that was.

Narcissa rose and with a sigh looked at Hermione, who was still deep in thought over her own possible Draco-besting talents.

"Well, come along, dear. It _is_ going to be a busy day," she told the girl before turning and leaving the room.

* * *

Hermione huffed and puffed a stray curl from her face. She stood on a pedestal surrounded by three mirrors and looked dejectedly at her reflection.

"No. No, this won't do," Narcissa said after several moments of examination. "Try the green instead and no more of those hideous bows."

The dressmaker sighed angrily and waved her wand. The pale yellow material that had formed a dressed on Hermione's figure vanished and she was left standing, for the fifteenth time that morning, in her knickers and bra.

She was long past being humiliated over being half-naked with her future mother-in-law and a completely unknown dressmaker. She was beyond her anger at having been duped into playing Barbie for Mrs. Malfoy. Now, she was just plain furious. She was tired, her feet ached, her lower back was throbbing, her ribcage was tingling from repeated wand jabs, and she was starving.

"Narcissa, _really_," Hermione started. She had been whining and complaining since shortly after she had been robbed of her clothing and shoved onto the modeling step.

"Almost done, dear, just a little while longer," the woman said with a smile. She had been a good sport considering how much moaning she had put up with from Hermione.

The girl rolled her eyes and crossed her arms while the dressmaker waived her wand about creating pieces of the sixteenth dress in midair.

Now she knew precisely what Draco had wanted his mother to 'take care of' and why exactly he had wished her good luck, and she wished she hadn't gotten out of bed at all that morning. No doubt, he found the situation hilarious. It wasn't as if she couldn't dress herself. She was perfectly capable of preparing herself for dinner.

_Embarrass him! __**He's**__ the embarrassment_, she thought angrily as she watched the skirt of the dress hover over her head and slip down to her hips.

A few more wrist flicks and the little, old dressmaker had the girl decked in yet another beautiful gown. However, Hermione only saw green and had decided she hated it on principle.

"_Perfect_," Narcissa cooed.

"_Not_ perfect," Hermione countered.

"And _why_ not?" the woman asked her.

"Because it's _green_!" the girl yelled.

"Oh, don't start about _that_ again," Narcissa said with a wave of her hand. "This is perfect. It's the one."

"Oh, no, it's not!"

"Thank you," Narcissa said to the dressmaker, who quickly gathered her things and Apparated from the house, eager to avoid being forced to whip up yet another gown.

"I _won't_ wear this!" Hermione protested, forgetting temporarily about her growling stomach.

"Oh, yes you _will_!" Narcissa replied, causing the younger woman to recoil slightly.

"Whatever," Hermione finally mumbled, "I'm going to find something to eat."

She hopped down from the pedestal, her skirt firmly in hand, and headed for the double doors of the room. She had just reached them when she heard the latch click and lock shut. She spun around and looked questioningly at the other woman.

"You aren't going to eat in that dress. Surely you don't want to repeat the last three hours?"

Hermione huffily undressed behind the changing curtain and left the gown haphazardly on the large chaise lounge in the room before she stormed out in search of sustenance.

* * *

She had not even halfway finished her lunch when Narcissa appeared virtually out of nowhere and pulled her from the table.

She was shoved into her bathroom and ordered to clean herself and her hair quickly, there was still much to do.

When Hermione emerged from the steam enveloped bathroom, she was not greeted by Narcissa but by another woman whose face she did not know.

"Oh, good, you're ready. Take a seat," the woman ordered, motioning for a straight back chair positioned in front of a large mirror.

Hermione's room had been invaded and, it seemed, redecorated; her bed and wardrobe were missing. Instead, she had what she could only contrast to a beauty salon in their place. The large mirror the chair sat in front of hung over a vanity. The vanity table was covered in various potions and lotions, oils and paints. Things that made Hermione shudder to think of putting on her hair or face.

Hesitantly, she sat in the chair, bundled in her fuzzy robe and waited for more torture to begin.

The woman unwrapped the towel from Hermione's head and let her wet hair fall free.

"Oh my," the woman said upon seeing the already frizzing state of the girl's curls.

"I can smooth it out," Hermione started to offer and reached for her wand.

"No need, dearie, _I'm_ the expert," the woman stated and set to work snatching various potions from the table and slathering Hermione's hair with them.

* * *

Hermione's head ached and she had finally closed her eyes, unable to bear watching the fiasco that was happening to her hair. It must have been hours that the woman had been yanking and pulling, rolling and curling, teasing and ironing her hair. Hermione was on the verge of telling the woman to get lost when she finally broke her silence.

"Ah, _perfect_," the woman muttered lightly patting Hermione's head.

She slowly opened her eyes, afraid of what would meet her in the mirror. She tilted her head sideways in shock at what she saw. Granted it had taken hours, but the woman had managed to make her hair look somewhat normal and tame. It was piled on top of her head. Stray curls and swirls of hair hung loose and framed her face.

"Now, for your face," the woman started and Hermione groaned.

* * *

Another two hours later and Hermione stood before a full length mirror gazing at her own reflection. It had taken all day to get where she was and she looked at her reflection in awe. She looked and felt like a Greek goddess.

The beautiful emerald green fabric was pinned at her shoulders with silver serpent broaches. It dipped down her chest and was anchored by a silver satin ribbon, which caught the material just under her breasts, creating an empire waist. The silver ribbon tied behind her and trailed the length of the gown. The soft fabric draped luxuriously down her body and pooled on the floor at her feet.

The gown on its own was beautiful, the entire image, however, was a vision. Hermione looked at herself and didn't recognize the woman in the mirror. Surely, that girl looking at her was a movie star and not Hermione Granger.

A knock sounded on her bedroom door and she turned to face it.

Narcissa slipped in quickly, after whispering to someone in the hall. In the time she had been absent she had transformed herself as well. She looked every bit the elegant Lady of the Manor.

"Oh darling, you look _wonderful_!" she gushed as she approached the girl and circled her once. She stopped in front of Hermione and tapped her chin, "Something's missing though."

She stood in front of Hermione a moment longer examining her.

"_Ah_," she turned and entered the closet, returning moments later with her hand cupped. "Here, these are what you need."

She handed Hermione a pair of simple diamond stud earrings, which she put on. Hermione looked back to the older woman nervously.

"What's so special about tonight?" she asked.

"Oh nothing really, it's something of a small engagement party. All of Draco's friends and associates and their wives, as well as some distant relations will have come," Narcissa said as she checked her hair in the mirror.

Hermione frowned. The last thing she wanted to deal with were a bunch of Pureblood females.

Narcissa crossed back to Hermione's door and opened it to reveal Lucius waiting patiently in the hall.

"Ready?" he asked his wife.

"Yes, I believe so," she answered as she joined him in the hall.

He glanced at Hermione. The ghost of a smile crossed his lips and he gave one nod of approval.

They started down the hall and Draco stopped at her door with his hands in the pockets of his dress pants. He frowned as he looked her over. When he finally met her eyes, she looked at him questioningly.

What to say? She was a vision, but he would _never_ tell her _that_.

"Nice," was his lackluster answer.

Hermione's mouth hung open.

"Nice? _Nice_?" she started in a whisper but her voice was quickly gaining volume. It wouldn't have stung quite so much if he had put any sincerity into that one word. But in typical Draco fashion, he hadn't.

Draco looked down the hall to see if his parents had heard her. They had stopped and looked back at him curiously. He stepped into her room and away from their prying eyes.

"Yes, _nice_," he said dryly.

Hermione fumed. She crossed the room and slammed the door shut.

"_Nice_!"she shrieked at him. "Do you have any _idea_ what I've gone through today? Nine hours of torture! _Nine_ hours! Nine hours and _all_ you have to say is _nice_?!"

His eyes widened slightly at her unexpected outburst and for a moment he regretted not voicing his true opinion, only for a moment though.

"Very nice?" he finally said in his most charming voice and smirked down at her.

Hermione's eyes only widened more and she wagged her jaw several times to say something. She finally gave up.

"_Ugh_!" she yelled in frustration as she yanked the door open and stormed from the room.

She breezed past Lucius and Narcissa both standing in the hall still and looking slightly shocked over the exchange they had overheard.

Draco hung his head out of the doorway and saw her retreating form. He scowled and began walking in the same direction. His mother frowned and shook her head at him.

"Very smooth, Draco," his father drawled once he fell instep beside his parents.

Draco rolled his eyes and shook his head. "Why didn't she yell at you? You didn't say anything at all. At least I said something."

Lucius shrugged. "Maybe she hates you more than me," he offered.

Narcissa laughed loudly, and the sound echoed off the vaulted ceilings and walls.

Draco looked as his father in disbelief.

"_Bollocks_," he finally muttered, receiving another shrug from his father.

It would be an interesting night.

* * *

They finally reached the formal sitting room doors, which were firmly closed. Hermione paced outside of them waiting on the trio to join her. The elves had escorted the guests into the sitting room as they arrived, and the dull roar of their conversations could be heard through the door.

At the sound of approaching footsteps, Hermione stopped and looked up. She scowled at Draco, causing his father to smirk at him.

Hermione began to fidget in her nervousness. Draco's parents stepped to the doors to enter first and she stood beside Draco. She was indignantly refusing to take his proffered arm. Finally, out of frustration he reached over and snatched her hand into his, holding her firmly in place beside him.

The double doors before them opened and the four entered the room only to find it empty. At the back of the parlor, where normally a solid wall stood, two large doors occupied most of the wall space. The foursome approached the new doors and as they opened of their own accord, the party entered the Manor's large ballroom.

Hermione's nervousness reached an all time high as she took in her surroundings.

"_Narcissa_," Hermione hissed to the woman in front of her. She turned around to face the younger girl with a questioning look. "A _small_ engagement party? You call _this_ small?"

Narcissa beamed at the young woman. "Yes, it is actually. Our Christmas parties are _much_ larger than this."

Hermione gaped as Draco led her through the crowded room behind his parents. Obviously, the sitting room had become something of an entry hall for the real location of the party. The Manor's ballroom extended almost the length of that wing of the house. A dozen crystal chandeliers hung from the ceiling, casting a warm, golden glow on the room. Large windows lined one wall, opening up to the brightly lit grounds and garden paths. Music seemed to float on the air, though no band or orchestra was present that Hermione could see.

She gazed around anxiously at all the unfamiliar faces. She felt as though she had stumbled into the midst of a Death Eater rally. Crooked Ministry employees, ex-Death Eaters, Slytherins she went to school with, people she had only heard rumors of, all mingled as a sundry crowd.

They made their way through the room, stopping to greet guests and the Malfoys introduced Hermione to them all. She was completely fed up with the party by the time they reached the back of the room where the refreshment table stood. She took a glass of red wine and began sipping it. She needed something to calm her nerves.

Her eyes flitted over the faces in the room. She looked towards Draco, who had drifted away from her and the table to consort with his friends, men she had seen at the house before. She looked the other way, searching the crowd for Narcissa, her one confidant in a sea of strangers, but was unable to find her. She shifted on her feet nervously, not wanting to move or speak to anyone. She managed to make her way to one of the large windows at the side of the room without attracting attention.

She had stood by it, gazing into the garden, brooding and nursing her red wine, for quite some time before she was lightly tapped on the shoulder. She turned around and almost immediately recognized the two men standing before her. The taller and slightly older looking man extended his hand. She hesitated before taking it and receiving a polite shake.

"I don't believe we've been properly introduced," his deep voice rumbled to her, still holding gingerly onto her hand. "I'm Rabastan Lestrange. You met my brother last week."

Hermione glanced at Rodolphus, who winked at her, before looking back at his brother. She smiled back at the older man meekly before pulling her hand away and drinking a mouthful of wine.

Rabastan turned to his brother, who was grinning darkly at the girl and enjoying her nervousness, and whispered something between them, after which Rodolphus left.

"How are you feeling? Any better?" Rabastan asked her conversationally after his younger brother left his side.

"Much, thank you."

"You look positively stunning," he added.

"Thanks," she said nervously.

"Why are you hiding in the corner? It's your party, you know," he said.

"Oh, I don't really… think I fit in here. I don't know anyone and…" she let the thought trail away and resumed her crowd watching. "Why aren't _you_ enjoying the party?"

He shrugged. "I don't fit in," he quipped, causing her to nearly choke on her sip of wine.

"I see, but somehow you fit in with me, the Mudblood?" she asked, still watching the moving bodies in the room.

He chuckled before speaking, "You'll find most here are willing to overlook your blood, simply because in less than a month you're going to be a Malfoy. That's a name that the majority of this lot still respect and want to be on good terms with."

Hermione snorted softly.

"Yes, but I should say they are hardly the crème de la crème of society."

"Quite the contrary, they _are_ society, the only one that matters in our world," he replied.

Hermione's eyes landed on Rodolphus, who had made his way around to the other side of the room and stood talking to Draco. The two glanced in her direction. Draco turned to the men he had been conversing with for a moment before he and Rodolphus started to move back towards her.

"I find it hard to believe that any of them will overlook the fact that I'm a Muggleborn. I don't see anyone rushing over to befriend me," she said dryly.

"Not yet, but amongst Purebloods there is nothing more valuable than family. Before all others, they are who you remain loyal to. And as most of us are related in some manner, you'll find their attitudes towards you will change in time. It may take a while, considering _who_ you are and _who_ you have been friends with, but the ones that matter will come around," he answered softly.

Draco and Rodolphus arrived beside them as he finished speaking. The two brothers took their leave of the couple and returned to the party to mingle.

"Why are you hiding in the corner?" Draco asked sharply.

"Why does everyone keep asking me that? I'm _not_ hiding," she responded as she turned up her wine glass and finished it.

"It's unbecoming to hide in the shadows and not speak to your guests, Granger."

She rolled her eyes at him. "You do plenty of chatting for the both of us."

He smirked and stepped closer to her. She turned her face away from him to resume watching the party. She only started and looked back towards him when she felt his arm snake around her waist and pull her ever so slightly closer to him. She looked at him shocked. But before she could protest, he led her into the midst of the party.

He directed her to one of the many banquet tables along the far wall of the room and instructed her to sit. She gave him a reproachful glance before doing as he said. He sat beside her, leaned into her ear, and began telling her the names of those seated at the large table with them.

"The Goyles, Greg and his wife, Millicent," Draco said nodding his head to their left, at the couple sitting closest to them. And indeed she saw Greg and who she recognized as Millicent Bulstrode, an odd couple in her opinion. As well, she now noticed, Theodore Nott, sitting beside them without a date.

"Marcus Flint and his wife, Tracey Davis," Draco continued around the table, "Archon Montague and Daphne Greengrass."

Hermione did not like the looks Daphne was sending her. The looks made her feel worse than Draco calling her a Mudblood ever had. But she straightened her shoulders and ignored the nasty woman.

Draco motioned slightly to their right at the last couple sitting at their table, who were chatting with the Montagues, "Blaise Zabini and Asteria Greengrass."

Asteria was every bit as wicked looking as her older sister, though much prettier. Hermione remembered the two girls as Slytherins from Hogwarts and their appearances hadn't changed much in the years since she had left the school. Both still wore looks of revulsion on their faces, as if something truly disgusted them.

They began the feast and Hermione sat quietly, pushing her vegetables around her plate in circles. She tried listening in on the whispered conversations around her but took no part in them. She hated acting so mousy but, for all rights and purposes, she was surrounded by her enemies. She felt like she was sitting in an arena full of hungry lions. Though they were declawed and muzzled, she found little comfort in their company.

"Hermione Granger is it?" a voice oozing of snobbery said to her right.

Hermione turned to face the speaker, seeing for the first time, Asteria Zabini looking directly at her. She found herself feeling as though she were far too close to the younger woman and leaned unintentionally away from her, into Draco.

"Yes, I am," she answered after a moment's pause.

The woman smirked at her arrogantly.

"So you're the little Mudblood everyone's been whispering about," she said. It wasn't a question.

"I imagine so," Hermione replied.

The young, blonde woman noticed Hermione's left hand, resting casually on the table top and seized it with her own gloved and bejeweled hand. She examined the exquisite engagement ring adorning Hermione's ring finger before dropping her hand rudely and sneering. Asteria narrowed her eyes and studied the other woman's face, making Hermione feel extremely uneasy. Finally, the Pureblood huffed indignantly.

"You aren't as ugly as I expected," she finally said sharply, a slight tone of disappointment clinging to her words.

Hermione's mouth fell open slightly at the audacity and rudeness of the woman beside her.

She suddenly became aware of the contact of her back against Draco's side when he laughed deeply at his conversation with Theo. She began to turn away from the rude woman to readjust her seating.

"It's a shame really," Asteria said before Hermione could fully turn. Hermione stopped and faced the other girl again. "Someone as rich and handsome as Draco wasted on the likes of _you_."

She could only look at the woman, shocked. She could think of no good response to something like that and she had never felt more offended in her life. She wagged her jaw several times, attempting to say something but couldn't find the words to articulate her anger.

Asteria laughed loudly, drawing her husband's attention. She waved him away and he turned back to his conversation with Archon. To all others, it appeared as though the two women were getting along just fine. Asteria had made sure to talk in such hushed whispers that none other than Hermione could hear her.

While the woman was distracted, Hermione had turned away from her and moved her chair slightly closer to Draco's in an attempt to escape the snobby bitch beside her. He turned his head from his conversation with Nott and looked at her in her close proximity curiously. She offered a reserved smile, not bothering to try explaining anything. Seeing she didn't need anything, he too returned to his conversation.

"You don't honestly think they like you, do you?" the hateful woman continued.

Hermione looked at her again, the words stinging painfully.

"Oh, you did, _pity_," she said in a syrupy voice. She leaned closer and bore her cruel eyes into Hermione's. "This is a _temporary_ arrangement. Don't get too comfortable."

She leaned away as she saw Narcissa approaching the table. When that one reached the table, she stopped and smiled widely at Hermione.

"Having a good time?" she asked cheerfully.

Hermione nodded and smiled weakly, though the seeds of doubt had been planted.

She thought she had a friend in Narcissa, and even Draco appeared to have a softer layer beneath his extremely hard outer shell.

Narcissa's grin widened and she hurried away from the table to converse with the rest of her guests.

"She's a wonderful actress isn't she?" Asteria said, leaning in towards Hermione again to continue her taunting.

"Shut up," Hermione responded softly.

She tried to ignore the words echoing in her head and fixed her gaze across the room; however, she could not stop the hurt she felt creeping upon her. She had been a fool to think these people, these nasty, Pureblood elitists, would _ever_ accept her. A single tear crept down Hermione's cheek and she fought to keep her breathing in check.

That lone, glistening tear caught the attention of Theodore just before she had the chance to brush it away. He nodded his head at Draco, who turned his eyes to the woman beside him. He too saw the tear, only just before her fingers erased it, and furrowed his brow.

"You're nothing more than a _foul_, _disgusting_, little _Mudblood_," Asteria said with more volume and venom than she previously had, unaware they had attracted Draco's attention. "You don't deserve to live or breathe; you should be quartered simply for setting foot in these halls."

"Asteria…" Draco started.

Several more tears joined the first, trailing down Hermione's cheeks as the evil woman continued her attack.

"You have defiled this home and you will be the curse on the very name of the Malfoys; never again will so respectable a family be able to call themselves pure."

"_Shut up_," Hermione said in a steady voice, as the tears leaked from her eyes.

"You are a taint on their unblemished flesh; the spot that won't wash out. Don't think for one moment that they will forgive you for that-"

"_Asteria_…" Draco said again. His voice reflecting the anger he was feeling. His tone suddenly had the attention of their whole table upon the exchange taking place.

"Don't fool yourself for one moment into thinking that he could ever _love_ you. They'll be rid of you as soon as the opportunity presents itself. You are simply the means that will justify their ends. They need you for appearances only, nothing more-" she practically spat.

"Stop it," Hermione whispered. She would not take the bait, she told herself. She would _not_. She would not start a public argument with this woman, she was better than that.

"_Blaise_," Draco said, looking heatedly at his friend across the table, demanding he control his wife.

"Asteria," Blaise said softly beside her, touching her hand.

She snatched it away from him but never took her eyes from the woman beside her.

Hermione was angry, livid, and at the same time, crushed. The tears trickled slowly down her porcelain cheek and her fist vibrated violently under the table from her restrained anger. She thought it had hurt when she caught Ron. She thought _that_ was painful. It didn't compare to what she felt now, it was like losing her parents all over again, like her heart was being ripped from her chest. She had been a fool.

"You think he wants to touch you? To have filthy, half-blood children with you? Do you? You are _dirty_, _impure_. You are unworthy to sit in the same room as us!"

In a flash, Asteria grabbed her half-full water goblet and flung the icy contents at her.

Hermione froze as the cold liquid trailed down her neck and chest, drastically cooling her body and soaking the top of her dress.

She rose quickly and left the room in a rush. Once outside the hall, she burst into hysterical tears and sobs, unable to hold them back any longer. She ran from the room as fast as she could. She ran until she reached the open courtyard door.

* * *

Draco saw her flee the room in a flurry of shimmering green skirts. He turned his attention back to the table, to the woman sitting two seats over looking quite pleased with the results of her actions.

He stood abruptly from the table, knocking his chair to the floor with a clatter. He reached inside his dress coat for his wand and brandished it at the woman sitting before him.

The entire hall went silent and turned to see what was happening.

Having heard most of the altercation, a man slipped, unnoticed, out of the doors to track down the host's fiancé.

"What's going on here?" Lucius Malfoy said as he approached the table.

Draco seethed, his teeth were clenched.

"Now, Draco, I have to ask you to lower your wand," Blaise said calmly, having risen from his chair as well.

"Draco?" Lucius asked. Narcissa appeared beside him seconds later.

"Where's Hermione? Where has she gone? What's happened?" she asked quickly, looking at the shocked faces seated at her son's table and the empty chair beside him.

"How _dare_ you…" Draco hissed, still pointing his wand threateningly at the woman's throat. "_How_ _dare_ _you_ come into _my_ house as a guest and insult _my_ fiancé."

"Oh _please_," she began, standing to face him and look at him arrogantly, "I only said what you've been thinking. What we've _all_ been thinking."

"What I think is _none_ of your damn business," he said, his voice low and clear. "You insulted my fiancé, and in doing so you insulted me and my family."

"Your fiancé is a _filthy_ _Mudblood whore_," she almost yelled at him. "And you… you defending her honor…" she looked at him disgustedly, "you're nothing more than a _blood_ _traitor_."

Sharp intakes of breath could be heard throughout the hall, and hushed murmuring broke out.

In the blink of an eye, Draco flourished his wand and hissed, "_Crucio_."

"_Protego_!" Blaise shouted as he moved in front of his wife; his shield spell deflected Draco's curse only just in time.

Draco's eyes were wide with fury and his breathing labored.

"_Blood traitor_!" Asteria shrieked behind her husband as she pointed at Draco accusingly.

Narcissa inhaled sharply and her hand covered her mouth. She looked at the girl in utter and complete astonishment.

Draco made to dive at the woman; there was no greater insult than that which she had flung at him and his family.

Before he could reach her, a fist connected with his jaw and he staggered back. He met eyes with his attacker. Blaise looked not only mortified but incredibly sorry for having hit his friend, but it had been his only option.

In Draco's rage he raised his hand and wound up to return the favor; however, his hand was stopped before it ever fell. He spun angrily to see who had stopped him and met eyes with his father, who was grasping his forearm tightly.

"_Draco_!" his father hissed.

Fighting against his father's hold on his hand, Draco looked back at the woman, cowering behind her husband, and spoke through clenched teeth, "Leave this house. Leave this house and don't _ever_ think of stepping foot in it again."

"I wouldn't _dream_ of it, _Muggle lover_," she spat. She stuck her nose in the air and pushed her way through the crowd of shocked bystanders.

Draco fought against his father anew and looked after the woman with a fury not many had ever witnessed from him.

"Draco," Blaise started but was interrupted by Draco holding his free hand up and shaking his head vigorously to silence him. He didn't want to hear whatever Blaise was going to say.

He looked deep into the eyes of one of his old friends.

Blaise closed the distance between them and whispered to him, so no others could hear. After several silent moments, Draco nodded wordlessly and Blaise turned to follow his wife from the hall.

He was followed by Archon and Daphne, who shot Draco a scathing glare.

Once they were clear of the room, Lucius released Draco and began questioning him. Narcissa turned to the guests and, as politely as ever, began ushering them from the house. The party was over.

Not two minutes later, Rodolphus came sliding into the room, his dress shoes finding no traction on the highly polished floor. He steadied himself on the doorframe before he pushed his way violently through the remaining guests until he reached Draco and his father.

The two Malfoy men stopped their whispered argument and looked at him; Draco fingered his busted lip gently and hissed when he found the forming bruise.

"Draco," Rodolphus began, panting slightly from his run. "The wards were left down."

"_What_?" Draco said, his anger refreshing itself.

"So they could come and go freely," he waived his hand at the departing quests, "but she's not in the house," he explained.

"Where'd she go?" Draco asked, hurrying from the ball room, followed closely by his father, the Lestranges and Nott.

"I don't know, the courtyard door was open, so I can only assume…" he trailed off and the pack of men hurried down the corridors to the door he spoke of, wands at the ready.


	15. Chapter 15: Walking on Broken Glass

Hermione stumbled out of the courtyard door into the large, center rose garden. She blindly wiped at her teary eyes.

She was so angry. So angry and hurt.

"What was I _thinking_?" she murmured to herself, wandering deeper into the dimly lit garden.

She let forth a scream of primal fury and swung her foot wildly at the nearest object. One of the floating glass globes, which had been illuminating the walkway, was flung from its perch and shattered on the stones lining the path. The fire fairy from within darted off into the night.

In a hysterical fit, she spun quickly on her heel with one destination in mind, Harry's.

In her anger she expected to vanish, as she always did when she tried to Apparate. She was not expecting to be met with pain so violent it sent her to her hands and knees on the stony path.

She felt as if she had a thousand volts of electricity forced through her body and she seized momentarily as her muscles contracted. She had no control over the piercing scream that escaped her lips almost instantaneously. She gasped as if she were drowning and immediately more tears fell from her eyes. She sobbed harder than she already had been and nearly fell back over when she tried to stand, her muscles continuing to vibrate from the residual pain.

Still sobbing and trying in vain to catch her breath, she slipped her shoes off and left them in the middle of the walkway before continuing her wandering.

She reached up to the cold metal hanging from her neck and pulled on it with all her might, knowing deep down it would do no good. She was left with an aching neck and still more anger. She wanted to shatter something, to destroy something. At that moment she wished she had her wand with her as she would have begun razing large sections of the Malfoy's home, or she would have tried anyway.

Drifting deeper into the dark garden, she regained some control over her tears and sobs and anger. These emotions were replaced by a melancholy temper; she realized why the last bearer of the necklace would have resorted to throwing herself from a rooftop. At that moment, it didn't seem so bad an idea to Hermione either.

The world was such an ugly place to her in that second. She had never felt more unworthy, unloved, and out of place.

She never heard the crunching gravel or raspy breathing before she was grabbed violently by an iron hand.

* * *

Her rescue party reached the garden entrance at the precise moment she shrieked after her foiled Apparition attempt.

Draco clutched the ring finger of his right hand; something was wrong.

"Granger!" he shouted to the darkness.

The men split in three different ways, following each of the garden paths that weaved through the flowers.

* * *

She twisted violently against the steely arm that had her pinned to an equally hard chest. She shuddered and grimaced when the man's face found her neck and he chuckled in a deep, gravelly voice.

"I _love_ it when they fight," he whispered darkly.

Her eyes widened slightly and she tried not to panic.

He reached down and found the leg slit in her dress. When his rough fingers touched the soft flesh above her knee, she resumed her fighting.

"_Stop_! Let me _go_!" she screamed as she tried to free herself in all manners, from throwing her small fists in vain, to trying to kick him awkwardly.

He growled menacingly and she heard the expensive fabric rip.

Her sobs returned in full force and her tears started falling again.

Just when she thought all hope was lost, she caught site of several bobbing lights moving closer to her through the garden.

"_Here_! Help!" she yelled as loud as she could, hearing once again the man's gravelly chortling behind her.

The lights came ever closer and the carriers of them became clear.

"_Draco_!" She almost sighed from relief upon seeing him and his father, both panting heavily from their rushed search.

The five men advanced on her and her captor, illuminating them both fully.

Draco took in her appearance, her eyes red and puffy from all the crying she had done, her makeup dreadfully smeared. Her hair was in total disarray, still half pinned up while the rest fluttered in all directions. Perhaps the most shocking however, was her dress, now ripped from heel to hip and exposing an indecent amount of her leg. And there in that extended slit, was her captor's hand, stroking the soft, white flesh of her thigh.

He stepped closer still and raised his wand to see the man's face.

"_Fenrir_…" he almost whispered.

Hermione's eyes widened to the size of small saucers and she whined fearfully.

Fenrir laughed again. Making sure the others could see him, he trailed his hand further up her thigh until it almost disappeared under her dress.

"Such _soft_ skin," he murmured. Using the side of his face, he pushed her head aside until it almost rest on her shoulder. He turned his face to her hair and inhaled deeply, letting his open mouth hover above her exposed throat. "And she smells _divine_. Have you smelled her, Malfoy?"

Using her one free hand that was not pinned against her body, she reached down and forced his hand out from under her skirt, where he had been stroking and pinching her upper thigh. His course stumble rubbed her flesh painfully when he smiled against her neck, in between deep inhales.

"So spirited," he whispered.

"Fenrir, get your filthy hands off of her," Draco said taking another step closer.

He looked up from Hermione's neck at the younger man.

"Now, _Lord Malfoy_," he said scornfully, "you _know_ how much I like girls…. Just one little taste…" he said lowering his head to her pale flesh once more.

She felt the tip of his tongue touch her neck. She scrunched her eyes shut and more tears trickled free of them; her face contorted in terror and she sobbed, expecting him to follow through with his words.

For an instant, he froze, as if some alarm or warning bell went off that only he could hear.

He did not bite down, as she had predicted. Instead, with a growl, he thrust her forcefully towards Draco, causing her to slam into his chest. She would have fallen to the ground again had Draco not wrapped an arm around her waist and caught her.

Fenrir began backing into the shadows, retreating quicker than she would have expected.

"Watch her, Malfoy. I won't let her go so easily next time…" he warned before vanishing all together into the darkness of the night.

"_Foolish_ girl! Are you _trying_ to get yourself killed?" Lucius hissed at her before spinning and striding back to the house. The others followed after him moments later.

She clutched two fistfuls of Draco's dinner jacket as she trembled against him. When she dared look up at his face, she saw his jaws clenched tightly together as he stared into the shadows. She started to look away but snapped her face back to his noticing the unsightly blemish at the corner of his mouth.

"What happened to you?" she whispered.

He looked down at her, as if noticing for the first time he still held her tightly. She watched his eyes narrow dangerously and he released her waist, only to clamp onto her forearm. He began dragging her forcefully across the garden to the terrace outside of her rooms.

They reached the doors and he pushed one open before he flung her forward into her study. She landed on her knees and braced herself from falling further with her hands, earning minor rug burns on her palms and knees.

She spun back to look at him, where he had entered the room and closed the door behind him. In the darkness of the room, she saw only his form, outlined by the dim light of the stars coming through the windows. She started crawling backwards away from him, feeling too close to his feet for comfort.

She reached the bookshelves and hunkered down before them, hidden in the shadow of the end table next to her sofa.

She watched him begin pacing back and forth in front of the windows, one hand raised to run through his white hair. He muttered softly to himself something she couldn't quite understand.

He stopped his pacing and turned to face where he had tossed her to the floor. His eyes darted around trying to find her in the darkness.

"Where'd you go," he murmured to himself, "_Lumos_."

He waved the wand around the room until the light fell on her scared face, cowering against the bookshelf. He crossed the room to her and knelt before her. His eyes sparkled with harnessed anger. He examined her silently for a moment before standing and extending his hand.

She took it tentatively and allowed him to pull her up.

He crossed the room to her bedroom and from there to her door. She followed closely. She noticed upon reentering her room that it had been returned to its original state and her wand sat innocently on her nightstand. She picked it up on her way by.

He pulled the door open and stepped into the hall, turning to face her. She attempted to follow him out but he didn't unblock the doorway.

"You are _not_ to leave this room, is that clear?" he said in a low voice.

"What _happened_ to you?" she asked again, focusing on his lip.

"Did you _hear_ me?" he asked testily. "You aren't to leave, _is that clear_?"

She met his eyes and nodded meekly.

Still looking exceedingly angry, he turned and started to leave.

"Draco," she said quickly. He stopped and turned to face her. She took a step towards him, raised her wand, and whispered, "_Episkey."_

She watched his lip heal. He reached up and touched the spot.

"Thank you," she whispered to him, stepping back over the threshold to her room.

He gave her one last look before turning and striding down the hall.

* * *

Draco paced in front of the fire in his study. The room was slightly crowded from the number of men gathered there.

Finally, he spun around to face the man sitting in his desk chair.

"This is _completely_ unacceptable! You promised me no harm would come to her…"

"She was not harmed, was she?" the man hissed in an almost-silent voice. A bystander would have thought him to be whispering. However, through some unfortunate circumstance of birth, it was the voice he was given. That revelation did nothing to curb the fear his speaking alone could bestow on his unfortunate victims.

"Fenrir is… _unstable_!" Draco spluttered angrily. "He's uncontrollable! Had you not intervened-"

"But I did…" the man said. "However, I thought you were taking precautions to keep her away from him. I won't be responsible for his actions if she's allowed to walk right into his arms…"

Draco glared at the man. He spoke quietly, trying to control his anger, "I _had_ precautions in place." He glanced at his father and the others gathered there. "I was _unaware_ they had been removed."

The man waived his hand dismissively. "Then, perhaps you should keep her on a tighter leash."

"She's practically a prisoner here already! Had Asteria not goaded her," he spun on Zabini, who had deposited his wife at their home and returned immediately upon receiving the summons. "And don't _even_ get me started on tight leashes! Your _wife_-"

"Draco! How many times need I apologize?! She was out of line!" Zabini responded, standing quickly from the arm of the sofa he had been sitting on.

"Oh _yes_… you could say that!" Draco yelled at the other man. "It's one thing to insult my fiancé, Mu… _Muggleborn_ or not, right in front of me… it's another _entirely_ to make the accusations she did about my family! And I think we know _exactly_ why she was lashing out at Granger, don't we?" he added looking the other man in the eye.

Blaise shook his head and replied quietly, "I've paid my penance for _that, _Draco. Don't bring it up now."

Draco fumed; his flesh practically steamed from the anger residing inside him. It had _not_ been a good night, thus far.

"Draco… we all _know_ you're not a blood traitor," Rabastan added from the dark corner he was lurking in.

"But that's just it… she's right…I _am _a blood traitor…" he said softly, turning back to the fire and hanging his head.

"_Enough_!" Lucius bellowed, rising from the green sofa. "As far as I am concerned that girl is no longer Muggleborn. She has no Muggle family remaining. She certainly can _behave_ as a Pureblood _ought_ to," he said this turning to look directly at Zabini, who hung his head, shamed. "And we all know she has magical capabilities surpassing most of us in this room. _None_ of this works without _her_. I don't want to hear 'blood traitor' in this house again. I'll personally _Crucio_ whoever speaks it."

He sat on the sofa again, looking as calm and composed as ever.

"In two generations, this won't matter anyway. Malfoys will be pure again," he added quietly.

Draco glared at the man sitting at his desk. It was _his_ fault all this had come to pass in the first place. There'd be no arguments of blood traitors or not if it weren't for _him_. It was because of _him_ the Malfoys had been so enthusiastic over the new Muggleborn laws.

Granted, Draco would have been ecstatic for the social elevation his marriage to Hermione Granger would have provided on the whole, had it been under better circumstances. The fact that it was permanent was unfortunate, considering she was only a pawn in a bigger picture. She was being used or she was meant to be used, rather. Whether she would be, was yet to be seen. She was a very headstrong woman and he figured she would see right through his lies when the time came for them. She would never capitulate and cooperate with him, not if she knew what the end results would be. She'd sooner throw herself from the Manor ramparts a la Eleanor Malfoy.

Draco smirked at the irony. The first and only other bearer of that cursed necklace, dear Eleanor, had also been a Muggleborn. Not a widely known fact. And one conveniently overlooked. Five hundred years had a way of burying unwanted skeletons. The harsh reality of it all was that, despite blood superiority and prejudices, occasionally the Purebloods needed an infusion of impure genetics. For that reason alone, Draco didn't so much mind marrying Granger. She wasn't the _worst_ they could have given him. And he'd take a Muggleborn wife any day over a son turning out like Gregory Goyle or Argus Filch. He shuddered at the thought, the Pureblood families were all far too closely related and the resulting offspring could be disastrous and downright embarrassing.

But that was Eleanor, an infusion of fresh, and powerful, blood. She was a brilliant, beautiful Muggleborn witch, who Lord Tiberius Malfoy had been completely and utterly besotted with. He had, for all rights and purposes, kidnapped the poor girl, married her against her will, forced her to bear his heir, and then confined her to his Manor. She was striking, one of the most gorgeous witches to be found in the south of the Kingdom at the time. Tiberius knew that and he wanted her all to himself. Not even her family knew what happened to her after her disappearance. It was no great shock to any that she had done herself in. All the generations leading to Draco had come from Eleanor's half-blood son. But no one, _almost_ no one, outside of the Malfoy family knew of her… and not even all of the Malfoys knew. Draco's own mother had never heard the tale. To the Wizarding world, to the Pureblood world, the Malfoys were one of the purest of the pure, untainted.

Draco shook his head lightly, abandoning his thoughts of the ill-fated Eleanor, and refocused on the conversation carrying on around him.

"… once they're married everything can begin moving forward. Between now and then, she needs to trust _all_ of you," the whispering-man said, looking pointedly at Lucius and Draco, "though I'm sure the events of the night won't help any." He turned his piercing gaze to Blaise, who rolled his eyes and looked away with a huff. "The seeds of doubt have been planted; you'll need to act quickly to dispel the effects of those words. Do we still have our man in the Ministry?"

"Yes, for the time being. However, he's becoming a nuisance, a loose end, asking too many questions, making too many demands. He _may_ need to be dealt with," Lucius said and pursed his lips.

"I'm sure the Lestranges can scare some sense into him…" the man looked to the two brothers, who nodded in response. "And on another note, we aren't removing the Wendigo. Not yet."

Draco's head snapped up. "You _have_ to! She _knows_ about it!"

"She told you she wouldn't speak of it, didn't she?"

"Yes, but she thinks it's gone now… there'd be no harm in mentioning something that's no longer a threat."

"He stays, it was a key factor with Fenrir tonight," he said as he stood and began crossing the room.

"This is… a _bad_ idea," Draco said, wide-eyed with disbelief. "If the Ministry isn't breathing down my neck within a week, I'm still going to have to… have a _permanent_ babysitter for Granger to make sure she doesn't find it, or it her!"

"You'll manage," the man said as he reached the Floo. He stopped and narrowed his eyes at Draco, "That is… that is unless, of course, you no longer want to honor our agreement?"

Draco tensed his jaw and looked away. He closed his eyes tightly and clenched his fists before looking back at the man standing before him.

"No… no, we still have a deal," he muttered.

"_Good_," the man drawled in response and smiled wickedly, "_Very_ good."

With one last look around the room, he stepped into the Floo, tossed down a handful of powder and vanished.

"_Fuck_!" Draco shouted, as he flung his wrist and sent a priceless, four-hundred year-old vase flying from the mantle. It shattered several feet away from him. He spun on the others, looking furious, "I _told_ you _all_ this was a bad idea! _He_ was a bad idea! Why, _WHY_ did you ever think listening to _him_ would be a good idea?!"

No one spoke.

"What did I say? _What did I say_?" His eyes darted around the room manically. "I said, he's nothing but _trouble_, don't get into this mess again. It's _not worth it_! We'll find a way to work it all out. But did any of you listen to me? No! _Fuck no!_ And who is strapped with all of the work and responsibility of _your_ decision?! _Who_?! _ME_! That's who! I don't see any of you doing this… _No_, you're all doing what you always do!"

He pointed at his father, "Bribing people and getting your way!"

He flung is finger to the Lestrange brothers at the back of the room, "Doing the goon work, intimidating and scaring whoever needs it, and never hesitating to throw around a few _Avadas_ when needed!"

He looked at Goyle for a minute before shaking his head and moving to Zabini. "What _do_ you do, Zabini? _Anything_ _at all_ worth a damn? Aside from shagging your bitch of a wife?!"

Blaise frowned at him but said nothing.

Draco looked at all of them, daring one of them to say something.

"This is _ridiculous_!" he shouted before he stormed from the room, slamming the door so hard Goyle flinched.

"_Damn_, I need a brandy," Blaise said as he crossed the room to the liquor cabinet. "Any takers?"

All those in the room nodded and murmured a yes.

Rodolphus crossed the room silently, pointed his wand at the shattered vase, and muttered, "_Reparo_."

He lifted the green and white, custom made, Ming vase and studied the Chinese dragon painted on it before placing it back on the mantle. He crossed the room and took one of the brandies Blaise had poured, then stood at the dark window, gazing out melancholily.

Draco walked feverishly through the dimly lit corridors of the Manor. He was so angry he could barely contain it. He brandished his wand.

He slashed it, like a rapier, across the first medieval tapestry he passed and it split perfectly in two. However, it did little to soothe his temperament.

He moved further down the long corridor and with both hands gripped the side of a large marble pedestal, which supported a carved marble bust of one of his long-dead ancestors. He pushed the large stone piece over onto its side. The bust fell free of its stand and shattered on the hard floors.

"_Fuck_!" He yelled angrily, hearing the word echo down the hall. He kicked what remained of the marble head and watched it roll down the passage away from him.

Still, the raging beast within him was not sated.

He turned down the corridor to his room; he intended to drink himself silly and pass out. He slashed two more tapestries in half and shattered an ancient plate from Greece.

He raised his wand again in front of a life size portrait and made to slash.

"Don't do it, boy!" his grandmother, Cedrella- looking as beautiful as the day she died-, admonished him with a long pointed finger.

He tilted his head at her and narrowed his eyes.

"_Control_ yourself!"She shrieked at him.

A maniacal smile crossed his face and he slashed with all his might. She leapt from the portrait just before the canvas was cleanly split.

Still fuming, he continued the rest of the way down the hall to his door. He could hear the painted version of his father's mother screeching down the hall and smiled to himself. He had left a rather impressive path of destruction in his wake.

He reached his door and looking at it for only a second, he lifted his foot and kicked the whole thing in. He entered and proceeded to wreck his own room. He shred his bed comforter, ripped pages from the many books in the room, broke the French doors leading to the terrace, smashed his writing desk in half, pulled half the stuffing from his leather sitting chair, and had begun throwing the glass ornaments he had collected most of his life around the room.

* * *

Hermione had told herself to ignore the sounds coming from the hall but after fifteen minutes, she no longer could. She opened her door and peered into the hall, which was empty. However, for the first time since she had come to the Manor, Draco's door stood open, or rather, was hanging open as it was halfway unhinged and a large dent was now planted in the center of it.

Hermione's eyes widened at the sight. She glanced down the hall, only then noticing the shattered glass and ripped tapestries and faintly she could hear the echoing shrieks of a woman.

She stepped into the hall and flinched when she heard more glass shatter.

Nervously, she crossed the hall and peered into his room.

He was facing away from her, his shoulders heaving up and down from his labored breathing. Sweat spots adorned the white dress shirt he still wore, which was partially pulled free of his dress pants. He had dropped his wand at some point, in favor of physical exhaustion, hoping to work out some of his anger.

He stood perfectly still, looking down at something he held in his hands.

She moved slightly looking around the room at the ruined state of it. Her foot touched a piece of shattered glass and she hissed at the pain.

He spun around quicker than she thought humanly possible and raised his arm back. She ducked only just in time, as an intricate, green, glass dragon flew over her head and smashed into the broken door behind her.

She looked over her shoulder, wide-eyed, at the broken heirloom. She glanced back at him her mouth slightly agape.

He was still panting, and he looked worse from the front, which she hadn't thought would be possible. His white dress shirt was askew and, at some point, he had lost the top three buttons. Literally, they were no longer attached to the shirt. His hair was ruffled and wet from sweat. And he scowled at her from under his furrowed brow.

She swallowed hard, only then remembering him telling her not to leave her room.

"I heard the noise. Are you… _alright_?" she asked quietly.

"Do I bloody, _fucking_ look _alright_?!" He spat.

She swallowed again and shifted nervously towards the hall.

"Do you… need anything?" she offered.

"A new life!" He said as he spun around and lifted another glass ornament from a shelf above his split writing desk.

"Can I get you anything? Tea… or something?"

He laughed; it was a deep, rich, hearty sound. He turned and looked at her quite amused.

"A cup of tea isn't going to help, Granger," he said quietly before chuckling again. He half-heartedly tossed the figurine across the room; it hit the marbled floors with a tinkle of broken glass. However, he hardly noticed as he had turned away again and fetched another.

"Well… would you like to… _talk_ about it?" she asked apprehensively.

"No," he said darkly. "I'd like more to break, or someone to beat the shit out of."

He looked over his shoulder at her.

Her eyes widened slightly and she began to splutter, "Well… I…that's…"

He shook his head, "Not _you_, idiot!"

"Oh…" she sighed and visibly relaxed. It was obvious from his posture that most of his anger had seeped away.

"You think Potter is available?"

She couldn't hold back the smile that crept over her face. She stood quietly in his doorway a moment.

After a minute she broke the silence, "I'm sorry. I suppose I did embarrass you tonight, and I apologize."

He turned around and looked at her with a scowl.

"No," he said. "No, there's no reason for you to apologize. You didn't do anything but run into a werewolf and nearly get yourself killed. Can't say I blame you though," he sat the ornament he was holding on the cracked desk and crossed his arms over his chest. "I think I'd prefer Fenrir to Asteria as well."

She grinned at him as she drew her wand and started pointing it at the random broken objects around the room, repairing them.

"Don't bother," he said as he started unbuttoning the remaining buttons on his dress shirt as he walked towards his closet. "The elves will have it all as good as new before morning."

Hermione couldn't avoid glancing at him as he passed with his shirt almost completely unbuttoned and she felt her face blush hotly.

She cleared her throat and turned away quickly. "I suppose so," she said and her voice sounded slightly pinched.

"Right, well, I didn't eat much tonight so I won't bother you any longer. I think I'll head to the kitchens and find something to eat," she said hastily as she hurried into the hall and away from the partially dressed man she kept telling herself she hated.


	16. Chapter 16: Dangerous Liasons

It was nearly an hour later when Hermione finally made her way back upstairs. Her hunger was satiated and her nerves had completely dissipated. The house was silent and the late night outside was still. As she approached her door, she saw that Draco's was still open and a soft golden glow lit the corridor.

He had been right about the elves, she saw as she stood in the doorway. The room looked as though hurricane Draco had never passed through. And the man himself was seated in his repaired sitting chair; a nearly depleted bottle of brandy was on the small table beside him. He sat there regally, like a king. A king wearing only his silk sleeping pants, she noted with a blush.

Hermione frowned at him and wondered just how much he had managed to put back in the time she had been gone. However much it was, it was enough to knock him out cold for he had not stirred once and the position his neck was in could not have been comfortable.

She shook her head, knowing she'd never be able to leave him like that. No matter what that horrible woman had said, Hermione knew there was something good in him, hidden beneath his thick dragon hide.

She crossed the room to the chair and lightly touched his bare shoulder. His skin was warm and silky soft and still hard at the same time.

She gave his shoulder a gentle shake.

"Draco," she said softly.

He groaned and tried to swat her away.

"Come on, get up then," she said as she tugged lightly at his arm.

His eyes opened slightly, bloodshot and unfocused. He groaned again, clearly he wasn't going to make things easy.

She grasped both his large hands in her own and stepped away to pull him up.

"Come on. Up," she said as she pulled him to his feet.

He staggered and nearly knocked the both of them to the floor.

Somehow, she kept her footing and maneuvered one of his arms over her shoulder as she directed him to his bed. Now, close to him, she really wondered how much he had drank in such a short time, because he smelled like a distillery.

The short distance to his bed felt like a mile and she wondered to herself how someone so tall and lean could be so heavy.

She managed to get him sitting in his bed and by then his eyes were fully open, watching her. She stopped and looked back at him.

"What?" she asked as she put the decorative pillows from the bed on the floor nearby.

He didn't speak. He only watched her with his glassy eyes.

She shook her head at his state. "You're really something, you know that?"

She reached the bed again and managed to get him positioned onto his pillow and the sheet up to his waist. She looked down at him with concern.

"Do you need anything? Water? You had _far_ too much to drink," she scolded him. Without waiting for an answer, she conjured a glass and filled it with water. She sat on the edge of the bed and held it toward him. "Here, drink."

He sat up on one arm and drank the glass in one long gulp.

"You're going to have the worst headache-" but her words were cut off midsentence.

Within a split second everything had changed. One moment she was speaking and the next his lips were on hers. It took her several seconds to realize exactly what had happened.

His free hand sunk into the thickness of her hair and pulled her closer to him. He was warm and smelled wonderful, aside from the overpowering alcohol that seeped through his skin. He tasted like it too, sweet and bitter.

She opened her mouth slightly and he took advantage. He freed his other arm to pull her closer and he took her down with him as he lay back into his pillow.

She was lost and time stood still for two minutes. It was completely irrelevant who they were, and where they were; the lives they lived and the world they lived them in. Nothing mattered but the feeling of his lips and tongue; and his hands, fiery hot, on her neck, on the small of her back, pulling her forcefully into him. All reason and logic fled her mind completely. She was glad when he tore his lips from hers, because she knew she would not have been able to.

She inhaled sharply when she felt his hot mouth on her neck. Both his hands were on her back and she could feel every inch of him pressed against her. But she could breathe now, and she could think clearly; she could form a complete thought again.

She pulled away from him and sat up. His hands rested on her hips and he tried to pull her closer again. His eyes, black and hazy, searched her face.

"No," she whispered between her labored breaths. "You're drunk."

She stood up from the bed and backed several feet away from him. She had to leave. She had to leave now, while she still could. She turned from him and hurried out of the room, pulling the door shut behind her.

His head flopped down to the pillow and he sighed. His eyelids slowly closed and his breathing deepened to a slow and steady rhythm. And he drifted away.

She leaned against the door, forcing her breath to calm and her body to cool.

She realized in that moment how dangerous he was. If she wasn't careful, she'd lose herself completely, the way the girls did back at Hogwarts. Oh, how she had sneered at them, fawning and cooing as he passed in the hall. Such silly girls, she had thought.

She couldn't let this happen; she was here for a reason. She had to focus. She couldn't let herself like him; she wouldn't allow herself to love him. He was Draco Malfoy, she was Hermione Granger. No. It could _not_ be allowed.

She sighed heavily and crossed the hall to her room, shutting the door.

Things would be so much easier if her heart and body would listen to her mind.

* * *

The morning after the kiss was awkward for Hermione. She ate her breakfast in silence. The only sound breaking the quiet was that of silverware clinking against china.

When she finally ventured a glance at Draco, his eyes met hers. She felt herself blush from her cheeks to her chest and quickly looked away. Draco, who remembered very little of the late hours of the previous night, looked at her curiously and wondered why she seemed so… shy.

She ate hurriedly and spared no words for conversation, fleeing the room as soon as she possibly could.

She was unsure of how to proceed now. She knew if she let them, things could get out of hand. He could be very charming and the last thing she needed was to be bewitched and lose her focus; she was on a mission. But perhaps that was unavoidable. She would be marrying him, after all.

Amid her very confused thoughts she came to one logical conclusion: avoid him. And she proceeded to do just that. She hid in the library for hours and when she wasn't there she was lurking in some remote, unused part of the Manor. She had become particularly fond of the East solarium. It was lovely to bring a book and bask in the warmth of what sun she could. And it helped distract her of other, more troubling thoughts.

She pushed her feelings aside and tried her best to forget them. However, just when she thought she had completely freed herself of them, she'd pass him in the hall or happen upon a very large and accurate portrait of the very man she was trying so hard to steer clear of.

Funny how that happens, the one thing one tries to avoid has a way of finding them wherever they are. And so for three days, she unsuccessfully avoided Draco and all thoughts of him.

* * *

Wednesday found Hermione wandering the hall outside of Draco's study. She had been trying to work up the nerve to speak to him but had thus far failed. She paced back and forth in the hall muttering various speeches. After several minutes of this ridiculous scene, she worked up the nerve to knock.

She stepped in front of the door and raised her hand as she held her breath. Only an instant before her fist fell to the wood she heard them. She halted her knock and leaned into the door to try to hear what was said.

"And what of Potter? He'll do his best to never let this happen," Draco's deep voice said angrily.

The reply to that statement was virtually inaudible. Hermione shivered as she heard the chilling hissing from within the room. It conjured repressed memories of Voldemort and she felt her heart begin to race.

"_What_? " Draco bellowed at the hissing man. "Have you gone _mad_?! You want _me_ to kill Potter?"

Hermione froze in the hall. Her eyes widened to the size of saucers.

"Figure it out?! _Figure it out_?! It's bloody _impossible_!" Draco continued his yelling at whoever his guest was.

Several silent moments passed and Hermione barely breathed.

"No, no, you know _nothing_ of that. Don't speak of it!" Another silence broke between Draco's angry shouts. "He was already dying, and I _didn't_ kill him, _damn it_!"

_Dumbledore_, Hermione thought as a single tear trickled down her cheek. Didn't everyone know Snape had killed him, not Draco? Snape had killed the only friend he'd ever had and in doing so had saved Draco's innocence.

She registered louder hissing sounds and then the obvious noise of the floo flaring to life as someone floo'd away.

"This is _insane_! He wants me to do the _impossible_! Even if I _wanted_ Potter dead, it's something not even the Dark Lord could accomplish, and he expects _me_ to?" Draco fumed near the door.

Hermione took in small fearful breaths as she started edging away from the door slightly. She'd best not be caught eavesdropping on _this_ conversation.

She made out Lucius' deep voice responding softly to his son, but could not tell what he said.

Draco began speaking softer than before. Hermione edged closer to make out his words. "…impossible task. Either he wants me dead, or he's too stupid to see that. Something else will have to be done."

_Harry_, the name echoed in Hermione's mind, _I have to tell Harry_.

"I suppose. We'll have to come up with something. With what he has planned, I won't add to the death toll. We just need Potter to disappear for a bit…" Draco answered to whatever someone else had said. She heard him sigh, "What have I gotten myself into?"

Hermione's own thoughts echoed that sentiment.

She had to get a letter to Harry; she had to let him know what was happening. She turned from the door to run but froze as her first footfall echoed loudly through the hallway. _Damn marble floors and damn these silly shoes_, she thought angrily as she looked for a place to hide. She dashed across the hall, careful not to let the heels of her shoes clap loudly on the floor, and swung open a door she had never ventured through.

She shut it only just in time as she heard the door to Draco's study open and several footsteps enter the corridor. She froze on the other side of the door and listened.

"Are you sure you heard something?" one of the Lestranges asked.

"Yes," Lucius answered.

The hall was silent for some time and Hermione held her breath.

"I don't see anything, Lucius," Rodolphus finally said.

"Indeed," the elder Malfoy replied. "Goyle." She heard a shuffling of steps enter the hall. "Stay here until we're finished," Lucius instructed the portly man. She heard a grunt in reply and nearly groaned in realization that she was trapped.

Hermione waited until she heard the study door click shut again before she exhaled softly. She reached down and removed the blasted shoes that put her in this position.

She finally looked around at the room she had entered. Only faint light entered through the heavily draped windows. She wove a path through the sheet covered objects in the room to the windows. Grasping to sides of the thick velvet drapery she pulled them ever so softly apart, allowing more hazy evening sun to drift in through the dirty glass.

She turned to see the room again. It was a long, rectangular room, with a high ceiling beautifully adorned with a mural of clouds and cherubs. She would have thought the room to be a ballroom if she didn't know the Manor had one already. And there were far too many white linen covered objects for it to be a ballroom.

Hesitantly, she moved to one of the large objects and pulled the dust-sheet away. Her eyes widened slightly at what she found: a gold encrusted harp, which stood nearly as tall as she. She darted around the room yanking the sheets from everything she could and stirring a horrible dust cloud into the air.

With the last piece uncovered, she gazed with shining eyes at the room. It was obviously an unused music room. Years of dust had collected on the pieces and now floated in the air, dancing about in the sunlight like glitter.

A grin crossed her face and she was temporarily distracted from all her other thoughts and worries. She wanted to pluck the ivory key of the grand piano before her. Her fingers itched to move and bring forth music from the old instrument, to break the crypt-like silence with something beautiful and melodic. She didn't realize she was reaching for the piano until she froze. She heard the men in the hall, leaving the study behind. She sighed, only then remembering the urgent matters at hand.

Reluctantly, she left the room, looking slightly more used than it had when she arrived. She crept into the hall, as silently as she could and hurried away to her room. She had to get a letter to Harry immediately.

* * *

Hermione sat nervously at the dinner table. Her leg bounced rapidly under the table and her eyes darted around skittishly. Her odd behavior did not go unnoticed by the others seated at the table. It didn't help matters any that both Lestranges and Knott had stayed for dinner.

She willed the blasted owl to fly a little faster; she needed Harry's response and she needed it now. She picked at her dinner, her stomach too upset to consider eating. With the meal nearly over, she was elated to see a flutter of white feathers swooping down towards her. Hedwig landed on the back of her chair and waited long enough for the letter to be removed before glancing menacingly at the Malfoys and flying out.

Hermione ripped the letter open. She frowned as she read. Harry wasn't worried at all. In fact, he told her she was overreacting and he was perfectly safe. He suggested she act as though nothing had happened. She scoffed aloud as she read that line gain, _as if nothing had happened_. He'd be out in two days for lunch and they could discuss it all in more detail.

With a scowl to rival one of Draco's, she whipped out her wand and pointed it at the letter. Watching it burst into flames until all that was left was a small fluttering black remnant. Only then did she look up and see she had the attention of all at the table.

"Sorry," she muttered and took a sip of her wine.

"Is everything all right, dear?" Narcissa asked; her brow was pinched in concern.

"Oh, yes, just a tiff with Harry. He's being a prat," Hermione replied with a smile. She figured the closer to the truth the better; the less likely she'd be to get caught in a lie.

"When is he not?" Draco chimed in and smirked at her deviously.

She glanced at him coldly and rolled her eyes, trying to act as normal as possible. It was hard to do considering the men at the table were conspiring to have her best friend killed.

"I think I'm done, if you'll excuse me," she said rising from the table. All the men stood as well while she exited. Once outside the hall she sighed heavily.

What was she to do? Harry was unconcerned with the obvious danger. She was helpless to prevent it or even confront Draco about it. She massaged her temples and decided she needed a distraction.

She moved away from the dining room quickly, eager to forget the problems this day had brought her.

* * *

Draco walked back to his study, his father and the three other men trailing behind him and conversing quietly. He wasn't quite sure when his life became so damn complicated. It seemed if it wasn't one thing plaguing him it was another, an endless chain of obstacles to overcome. And to be perfectly frank, he was sick of it all.

And to top it all off, Granger was acting… _peculiar_. She had been for several days now. She was always dashing off into some random room when she saw him coming, rushing through dinner, and well when he thought about it, she'd been avoiding him. _Why the devil would she do that?_ He thought angrily. How long was it now she had been living with them? Two and half weeks? And he couldn't say they had come very far in that time frame. He didn't expect it to be honest. Eventually, he would have to level with her about some things. And she would cooperate, if she liked living.

He ran a hand through his hair and sighed. She'd never cooperate. And she was far too clever to be lied to. She'd figure it all out in time.

Draco was completely lost in his thoughts as he approached his study door. So it was a great startle to all the men in the hall to hear what they did. Coming from the music room was a completely foreign sound to everyone present.

Draco hesitated a moment, fearing the explosion he was sure would come. He had been forbidden to go in that room his entire life, as had his own father. That was Cedrella's music room. Not a soul stepped foot into it. Abraxas Malfoy made sure of that, and so Lucius passed the same mentality to his own son. It was something of a desecration to know someone had entered into that long forgotten shrine.

Draco dared a look at his father, who was looking at the door wondrously with a brow quirked, as if the door itself were making the foreign noises. Draco was the first to move towards the room. He turned the knob and pushed the door open, aware of the others peering in behind him.

The sight that met him was not what he had expected. The curtains had been thrown away from the windows revealing the brightly lit terrace and grounds outside. The instruments had all been uncovered and from the looks of it the entire room had been relieved of dust. It looked, in short, as though it hadn't gone untouched for almost one hundred years.

There in the middle of the room with one of the small wooden stringed instruments on her shoulder, was Hermione. She was surrounded by six other pieces, all enchanted to accompany her in her own private orchestra. The sounds she elicited from her small instrument were beautiful, and yet heartbreaking; a lovely, dramatic piece that the men couldn't help but feel entranced by.

Her arms moved quickly, adjusting the bow to produce unique and different sounds. At times she moved it slowly across the bridge and at others incomprehensibly fast. Her hair was piled on top of her head but pieces had fallen loose and bounced to and fro as she swayed to the beat of the music.

The song ended and at that point she noticed the five men that had invaded her haven. She stood up and looked at them, the instrument clutched in her left hand and the bow in her right.

"I'm sorry," she started with a deep blush. She suddenly felt as though she was the one who had intruded from the looks on Lucius' and Draco's faces. "I'm sorry; I should've asked to use the instruments."

After a long silence Lucius shook his head, "No, no it's fine. This room has gone unused for far too long."

Draco's head snapped sideways to look at his father incredulously. He watched in amazement as his father drifted into the center of the room and sat himself on one of the extra chairs.

"What was that?" he asked as he looked at the girl in wonder.

"The music?" she asked. He nodded. "Oh, well, it was a song from the mid 70s by an English rock band called Led Zeppelin. It wasn't originally played on these instruments but it translated really well. It's called Kashmir," she said, her know-it-all side coming out in full force, always eager to explain something to someone who was obviously clueless.

"Kashmir?" he asked, a look of confusion gracing his elegant features.

"Yes," she said with a smile and opened her mouth to go into the long details of how the song came to have its title and the cultural that had influences its unique sound but was stopped short.

"Play another," Lucius said.

Draco felt like sulking. His father had never allowed him in this room. Granger stepped in and actually knew how to use the damned things and his father was entranced, forgetting 89 years of tradition. It wasn't fair.

"Another? Oh well… I don't know," Hermione said, the blush returning to her cheeks again under the intense scrutiny of the five men.

"Play," he said more forcefully.

"Alright," she said, retaking her seat and thinking a moment about her next selection. She lifted the bow and prepared to begin.

"What are you going to play?" Lucius asked. It was the most interested Hermione had ever seen him in anything involving her. Draco stood in the door way with his arms crossed and huffed.

"Ugh…it's Canon… in D Major," she said and positioned herself again.

"Who wrote it?" he asked.

"Uhh…"she sighed, "Pachelbel, I believe."

"Was he a wizard?" he probed.

She looked at him quizzically, "Not that I know of."

"A _Muggle_?" he stated, sounding fairly scandalized.

"Yes, a _Muggle_. Do you want to hear it _or not_?" she said with a huff, irritated by all his interruptions.

He pursed his lips and waived his hand, telling her to go on.

Over the course of the five minute piece, all of the men had taken up some residence in the room: leaning broodingly against the wall, in the antique wingback chairs, on the padded piano benches.

She played out the last note and silence filled the room for several long moments.

"Well, that was lovely," Lucius said standing and heading to the hall. "You'll have to play for us again sometime."

He left the room and the Lestranges and Knott followed shortly after, all travelled across the hall to Draco's study. Only he remained, glaring at her from the wall.

"I don't know how you managed it…" Draco said from across the room.

"Pardon?" she said spinning around looking at him fiercely, her anger with him having still not abated.

"No one has been allowed in this room in almost ninety years. But you come in and make some screeching noises and he overlooks all of that."

"I'm sorry…" she said with a frown. She wasn't sure what type of response he wanted to that.

She turned from him and went about putting away the violin and tidying the room, ignoring his presence. She no longer felt the need to speak with him, not after what she had learned earlier in the evening. He was supposed to kill Harry. Maybe he didn't want to, but that didn't ease her mind any.

In the midst of her straightening, he grasped her shoulders and spun her around to face him.

"_What's_ the _matter_ with you?" he demanded in a low voice.

"Nothing," she snapped. "Let me go."

"_No_. Why have you been avoiding me?" he hissed at her. "You've been acting strange since Sunday morning. What's the problem?"

"I…well I… _it doesn't matter_! Let me go!" She pulled against his hold on her arms but only managed to cause herself more pain as he gripped her tighter.

"You won't tell me?" he asked, a dangerous gleam in his eye.

She shook her head stubbornly.

"Fine!" he hissed and dropped her arms, but before she could move his wand was in her face. "_Legilimens_!"

_Shit_, Hermione thought. Quickly, she brought up only the memories of Saturday night, all the memories, even the kiss. Anything to hide what she'd heard today. She focused on Saturday and in particular him kissing her, the lustful look in his eyes, him pulling her into his bed.

He withdrew quickly and stepped away. He nodded at her.

"Sorry," he coughed out.

"For _which_? Kissing me or violating my mind?" she asked angrily.

"Err… _both_?"

"I'm _sure_ you _are_." She started to push past him but he stopped her again.

"Is _that_ why you've been avoiding me? Because I kissed you?" he asked, looking in her eyes for some answer. "You _do_ realize we're going to be married, don't you?"

"_That_ has _nothing_ to do with it!"

"Then _what_ is the problem?" he hissed, he really didn't understand women.

"You only kissed me because you were drunk! _That's_ the problem and it's embarrassing! Now let me _go_!" she yelled at him. Her voice echoed off the vaulted ceilings of the old room.

He smirked at her. "_That's_ what the issue is?"

"Yes! Now let me-"

For the second time, he cut her off and shut her up quite effectively with his lips on hers. If the first kiss had been dangerous, the second was downright deadly. He moved his lips against hers fiercely. It was a kiss wrought with fury, hot and demanding. He poured his frustration from the day into it.

She was temporarily blinded by shock and hardly noticed when he pulled her closer. She opened her mouth and responded to his kiss timidly. He assaulted her tongue and lightly nipped her lower lip. She ran her hands up his chest and would have wrapped them around his neck, had he not pulled away.

Her head sagged forward and she tried to catch her breath. She did not even have her eyes open when she heard his footsteps withdrawing from the room. She opened them slowly and saw him stop at the door. He smirked at her like the devil he was before disappearing through the doorway.

She lifted one hand to her chest to try to steady her breathing. She reached up to her cheek and felt the warm flush that surely tinged them pink.

She walked back to her room in a daze, mentally berating herself the whole way for letting him get to her. And hating herself for liking it as much as she did.


	17. Chapter 17: The Green Monster

Hermione spent the better part of Thursday morning in a daze. She simply couldn't believe he'd kissed her again. He'd kissed her again and had been completely cognizant and sober when he did it. It was astonishing.

She had been shy and nervous around him after the first kiss, but after the second, she was completely on edge. And the sly, devilish looks he kept sending her did not help matters at all. She had a sinking feeling he'd kidnap her in a dark hall and snog her senseless simply to keep her mind fogged.

And by midday, she wished she _was_ being snogged senseless. She had been literally dragged into her most hated room of the Manor: the fitting room. She had been stripped and shoved onto that velvet dais and found herself being a human mannequin to wedding dresses of sundry styles.

Shouldn't she have felt some excitement, being fitted for her wedding dress? In truth she felt none, only nerves. He'd have to kiss her again when they married! And a deep aching in her poor, mistreated feet. Hours upon hours of standing and posing weren't good for one's heels.

And hours and hours of mindless chattering weren't good for one's mental state. The cacophony of sound that surrounded her was headache-inducing. Between Narcissa, Ginny, Luna and Padma there were far too many biddies in the henhouse. And oh her poor, poor nerves when a rooster finally showed his head.

One of the double doors of the room began to open after a quick rapping. Immediately, all of the women began shrieking and rushing about to grab various sheets of fabric to hide away Hermione.

"Mother?" Draco asked as he opened the door fully and stepped in.

"_Draco_!" she screeched at him.

He paused and looked affronted.

"What on _Earth_ did I do?" he asked, taking in the ridiculous scene before him.

"Apparently," Hermione said, completely hidden behind held pieces of white satin, "you aren't allowed in here." Her voice expressed what her face could not and it was clear how utterly put-out she was.

Draco's eyes scanned the women and fabric and a small smile crossed his lips.

"I take it you're in there somewhere, Granger?"

"_Obviously_…" she hissed, mimicking her old potions professor.

"Did you _need_ something, Draco?" his mother demanded. She looked at him with narrowed brows.

"Yes… do you know where my Quidditch leathers are?"

"You're asking _me_? How should _I _know? Ask one of the elves…"

"But, Mother…"

"Oh, good heavens! Can't you keep up with your own things?!" Hermione demanded from behind the satin. A wand was seen at the top of the make-shift curtain pointing directly at Draco. "_Accio_ Quidditch leathers!"

Before he could speak another word, the Quidditch gear slammed into his backside sending him into a heap on the floor and simultaneously sending all the women into peals of laughter.

Draco stood angrily and dusted himself off before gathering his things.

"Thanks for that, Granger! Such _finesse_ you have!" He stated angrily before retreating in a huff.

She felt slightly better. After all, what was a little humiliation on her dear fiancé's behalf? She was standing there being tortured and he was going off to play Quidditch. How ridiculously unfair!

The women around her started moving again and chattering away. Several hours of looking through fabrics and colours had been exhausting, not to mention all the dresses she already 'modelled'. Now she was expected to look through the monstrously large book of gowns and choose the one she liked best. She felt like flipping to a random page and picking whatever her finger fell on.

It was going to be a very long day. By the end, she figured she would be in need of a Firewhiskey.

The women huddled over the book and began laughing at one of the, no doubt ridiculous, dresses they saw.

Or possibly two, she amended her earlier thought. With a sigh, she lowered herself from the small step and walked over to look through the dress book.

* * *

Harry showed promptly for lunch the following day. Hermione and he decided to have lunch in the garden, and hopefully some privacy there. There wasn't much to be had however, as Narcissa repeatedly popped in and out discussing random wedding details with Hermione and even going so far as to solicit Harry's opinion when Hermione was being difficult.

When they finally finished eating, Hermione took Harry by the arm and began pulling him away from the large house, down the east lawns, far away from the woods.

"Ginny tells me you're anything but the blushing bride, Hermione. Aren't you excited to be getting married?" he asked with a grin when they were far enough from the house to not have eavesdroppers. They stood in the middle of the vast lawn and could see far and wide anyone who may have approached.

Hermione glared at him. "You know I'm not. I hate doing those girly things. It always gives me a headache," she complained as she scowled back up at the house.

Harry looked over each of his shoulders and quickly cast _Muffliato_.

"Now, we can talk freely. What is it you've been itching to tell me?" he asked as he rubbed his hands together.

"Harry! They're going to try to _kill_ you," Hermione stated, as if it were the most obvious thing in the world.

Harry glanced back at the house. "I dunno, Mrs. Malfoy seemed perfectly cordial."

"Oh, Harry, _do_ be serious!" she scolded him.

He grinned back at her and nodded his acquiescence.

"Alright," he started. "Look, I'm not worried about it. You realize I get a lot of death threats, right? If Voldemort couldn't do the job, none of these others will manage it," he said with a warm smile.

Hermione gave him a sidelong glance begging him to be serious yet again.

"If it makes you feel better, I'll get constant security for the house, alright?" He put his hand on her shoulder and pulled her closer.

"Alright. I couldn't bear it if anything happened to you or Ginny."

"I know, love, but we'll be fine. It's _you_ I'm worried about," he said, rubbing her back soothingly. "You've got to be careful, Hermione, I know you can handle yourself but… oh, wasn't there something you wanted to tell me about your engagement party I _wasn't_ invited to?"

"Oh, yes…" she quickly went into a long explanation of that horrid night's events. She smartly left out the bit where Draco kissed her. At the end of her tale, Harry's face was beet red with rage. He clenched his hands into white fists and began pacing back and forth in front of her.

He stopped, gazing back at the house. He ran one hand through his neat hair, ruffling it up and reminding her of the boy she went to school with.

"And Fenrir is still here somewhere?" he asked. His voice had taken on a deep, darker tone- it was his serious Auror voice, he was down to business now.

"As far as I know, he's off in the forest," she said motioning to the dark tree line on the far side of the house, barely visible to them.

"Son of a _bitch_," Harry cursed under his breath. "I _knew_ this was a _bad_ idea. I _knew_ it!" He swung his foot at a nearby stone. He rubbed his chin as he thought. "I'm getting you pulled out of here. It's too dangerous."

"Harry, you know that's not possible. The contract was binding."

He rolled his eyes and breathed out a huff of air, knowing she was right.

"Yeah well, it doesn't say _I_ can't kill _Malfoy_. I'm gonna _kill_ him, he's dead. He's put you in danger and..."

"No, Harry. He…he…" she stopped to search for the words. "He actually… he didn't do anything wrong. He tried to defend me and he came for me. He didn't do _anything_ wrong."

Harry looked at her with narrowed brows. "Are you _Imperiused_?"

"No!" She laughed at him. "No, it's the truth, as hard to believe as it may be."

"Yeah but… _Malfoy_? _You're_ defending Malfoy? I mean… Hermione Granger defending Malfoy?" Harry ran a hand through his hair, "Yeah, it's impossible to believe. I still don't like this. It's just been one thing after another. It's too dangerous here."

"I'm _fine_, Harry, honest, nothing terrible has happened to me."

"Yet," he added.

"I'm fine. I'll _be_ _fine_. Really. You're the one with a hit out on you, not me. If anything happens to me, Draco goes to Azkaban, remember?"

He shook his head and ran his hand through his hair again. It had been tidy when he arrived but all it resembled now was a haphazard mess.

"What do you know of Asteria Greengrass?" she asked, breaking him free of his troubled thoughts.

He looked up at her, his green eyes sparkling in the sunlight. "Not much, I'm not a gossip maven you know."

"I know _that_," she replied as she rolled her eyes at him. "Do you know anything about her?"

"It's Zabini now isn't it?"

"Yes," Hermione answered as she looped her arm in Harry's and started leading him back towards the house.

"Hmm…." He thought a moment. "I think they have one… or is it two? One or two kids now, I'm not sure." He went silent again. Then he snapped his fingers, "Oh! She was engaged to Malfoy a while back. It was all the scandal apparently. You didn't know about it?" he asked her.

She shook her head and stopped walking.

"Yeah, they were engaged. I think… I think her family lost their fortune, you know with the taxes and all, and they were trying to marry her off to one of the richer families. Anyway… something happened. I want to say she was caught having some torrid affair with Zabini. Malfoy found out and dropped her like a bad habit. Wouldn't speak to her or Zabini until after they married. I think that's how it went, I could be wrong though."

"Well, that explains a few things," Hermione said, looking back up at the looming, white mansion. "I don't know how I didn't know about that. And they never mentioned it either."

"Neither would I to be honest," Harry said. Hermione looked up at him curiously as they resumed their stroll to the house. "Well, I mean… you should know how it feels… with Ron and all… have you talked to _him_ about _that_?"

"Of course not!"

"Well…"

"Yes, I understand, Harry. It just seems… they're the Malfoys… doesn't _everyone_ know their business."

Harry snorted. "Yeah, I think so. Everyone'll be knowing _your_ business too, you know. Next you and I will be in the midst of some love triangle. Ginny will hate you. Malfoy will be plotting my death… oh… wait…" he grinned at her and she punched his arm.

"Yes, I can see the headlines now," she said with a large smile.

They walked slowly towards the house beside each other for several silent moments before Harry finally spoke.

"Err… Hermione… there's been some discussion in the office. You see, we never knew for sure but… well… some of us were wondering if Malfoy… if he has the Dark Mark…" Harry said.

"Well, I wouldn't know… I haven't seen him without clothes," she said with a smirk.

Harry blushed. "Right, I figured… err… I _hoped_ you hadn't… uh… anyway… Maybe you could find out? Somehow … I _don't_ want to know how…" he spluttered.

"Yeah, I'll try." She smiled at his uneasiness.

"Ok, thanks."

"Why does it matter?" she asked.

"Uh… well, I don't know that it really does, mainly it was just curiosity… me and Ron had a bet, you see… but what brought it up?" He paused and thought a moment, "You remember the meeting don't you? When Remus mentioned wanting to have someone on the inside and all that rot?"

"Yes…"

"Well, we've known for some time that some of the Death Eaters who aren't in Azkaban are… well… recruiting. We've been hearing rumours for a while now."

"Why would they do that?" she asked as she furrowed her brow.

"I don't know… but it probably has something to do with the meetings you've mentioned.

Hermione nodded and then suddenly asked, "Are you going to arrest the Lestranges?"

The Aurors had been hunting for them for several years now, both having vanished shortly after the final battle never to be seen again. And yet, here they were lurking about in Malfoy manner, coming and going as they pleased. How had they not been seen or caught? Another mystery…

"I don't think that'd be smart," Harry said. "They'd know you'd told me about them if we did."

"Oh… right." She stopped and looked up at the house again, realizing something for the first time. "I wonder why he even lets me see you alone. _Surely_ he can't trust me… won't he know I'm telling you these things?"

Harry stopped as well and pondered the thought. Why _would_ Malfoy give her the chance to transfer information? It didn't make much sense… unless they wanted her to…

"What if he _wants_ me to tell you, Harry?" she said, just as Harry thought it.

"Why would he do that?" he asked aloud.

"Ok… so we know these Death Eaters are still having meetings," Hermione began, pacing before Harry and tapping her chin. "We know they're meeting with someone, but we don't know who. We know he wants you dead but Malfoy seems reluctant to follow through… he _did_ mention he didn't _want_ you dead," she said, stopping her pacing and glancing at Harry.

"Well that's good," he said sarcastically.

"We know Fenrir and his Wendigo are on the grounds… or were. We know Malfoy knows I'm meeting you and probably discussing these things and he doesn't seem to care." She stopped and looked at Harry as if she expected him to add to her list.

"We know… Asteria Zabini is _madly_ jealous of you because you're marrying the filthy rich bloke she was meant to marry, but she mucked that up royally and got stuck with someone not quite as rich…" he offered.

"Yes, that _surely_ is a clue… _thanks_, Harry." She rolled her eyes and started chewing on her lip.

He wrapped his arm around her shoulders and pulled her in close to him.

"Try not to worry about it too much, love."

"I just want to know what's going on. I hate being in the dark," she complained.

"We'll figure it out, just, please… please, be careful, please," he begged her.

"I will."

They started towards the house again, Harry holding Hermione tightly against him as he rubbed her arm in a comforting manner.

"I miss you, Harry… and Ginny. I wish things could be the way they were," she said with a sigh, reminiscing about her school days, happy memories.

"Yes, but then we'd be dealing with Voldemort again. I'd rather not." He leaned over and kissed Hermione's head as he gave her another squeeze and released her shoulders. "So, am I going to be invited to your wedding, or am I being snubbed for that as well?" he asked.

"_Harry_! Of course you're invited. Ginny is my maid-of-honour!"

"Well… you never know… I'd have thought I would have been invited to the engagement party," he sulked.

"You would have… I didn't know that was what it was until we walked in. _Honest_!" she said at his accusing look.

She looked back up the hill at the house and saw a tall, blonde figure striding towards them.

Draco had seen them from the terrace. He'd seen the way Potter held her and pulled her close. The innocent, brotherly kiss that was misinterpreted. He saw it all and then he saw red. Unable to just stand and watch, he decided to break up the little love-fest and possibly break apart the boy-who-wouldn't-live-much-longer. Maybe he'd come through with the whole 'Kill Potter' thing after all.

"Oh Merlin, here comes trouble," Harry muttered upon seeing the other man approaching them.

"Harry," Hermione said with a nervous glance at him, "please get the Aurors to your house, and I'll try to find out… that thing, ok?"

He nodded and quickly cancelled the muffling spell. He gave Hermione an encouraging smile only moments before Draco was within ear shot of them.

"_Potter_," Draco said dryly upon reaching them. His mouth smiled politely but his eyes showed fury.

Hermione looked at him curiously a moment, unsure of what he'd be angry about. She momentarily panicked and wondered if he had overheard them somehow.

"Malfoy," Harry responded in kind, though his tone was a bit more civil than Draco's had been.

The three stood in silence for several long moments; Hermione's eyes darted between the two men cautiously.

"So…" she finally said when it was apparent neither of the men was going to speak. "Did you need something, Draco?"

"Oh, no, just thought I'd join my _fiancé_ and the _great_ Harry Potter," he took a step towards her and wrapped his arm around her shoulders pulling her away from Harry. "It's a lovely day for a stroll, don't you think?"

She looked at him with narrowed eyes. He was behaving peculiarly. But even so, she did not pull away from him.

"Right… well," Harry said nervously. He checked his timepiece before continuing, "I should be getting back to the Ministry."

He glanced between Draco and Hermione, who was still frowning at the taller man's actions. Harry stuffed his hands in his pockets and looked at them expectantly.

"Alright," Hermione said quietly and started moving towards the house; Harry fell in step beside her and Draco drifted behind them.

They reached the study and Harry stopped before the floo to say goodbye. Hermione wrapped her arms around him and hugged him tightly. She whispered in his ear, so that only he could hear, that she wanted to see him again soon. She pecked his cheek softly before leaning back to smile at him.

Only Harry could see the angry look coming from the youngest Malfoy behind her. He wanted to laugh at the obvious envy the other man showed and wished he could play up on it even more by pinching Hermione's bum. But he knew the situation could wind up being far too serious. For Hermione's sake, he let bygones be bygones and repressed the haughty smirk that wanted desperately to grace his face.

Harry pulled away and looked at Hermione with concern. He didn't want to leave her alone with Malfoy, especially not when he looked like he wanted to skin someone alive, however unfounded his jealously may have been. Draco Malfoy could be a dangerous man, and Harry felt certain the only thing protecting the pretty young woman in his arms was a magical document, locked safely away in the Minister's office.

"Be careful, Hermione. Call me if you need _anything_," he whispered and locked eyes with the man behind her again. That one short look threatened a fate worse than a Dementor's kiss if Draco caused or let any harm come to the girl Harry regarded as a little sister, even if she was slightly older than him.

With great hesitation, he stepped into the floo. He started to say something but thought better of it and shook his head. He tossed down the floo powder, causing the flames to shift to jade and lick at his calves.

Hermione gave him a small, almost unnoticeable wave just before he spoke his destination and vanished.

Draco turned and covered the few feet between him and the door before slamming it shut. He turned to face her and her wide, shocked eyes met his angry gaze.

"Are you shagging Potter?!" he bellowed at her.

"_What_?!" she shrieked back, completely unbalanced by his accusation.

"_Are… you… shagging… Potter_?!" he demanded again, stressing every word.

"Are you _insane_? No! He's my best friend. He's my family! The closest thing to a sibling I've ever had!"

"You don't _act_ like siblings!" he retorted as he paced angrily on the other side of the room.

"And _you_ would know, would you?" She paused, watching his angry, lion-like actions. "This is about Asteria isn't it?" she hissed at him.

His head shot up at the mention of his former fiancé.

"I'm not a Slytherin slag, Malfoy! Don't compare me to those girls! Don't assume I have no morals, that I would do the things those women do!"

He raised a single finger at her but did not utter a word. That finger warned she was teetering dangerously on the edge of Pandora's Box. But she was too furious to care at that point. _To hell with him_, she thought. She crossed the room to stand directly before him, challenging his anger with her own.

"Do you want the _specifics_, Malfoy?! _Do you_? Would that ease your fears, _darling_?" She said; her voice was full of scorn. "The last time I _shagged_ anyone was six months ago. Three days before I found Ronald Weasley cheating on me with Lavender Brown, _in my flat_ no less! Are you happy _now_!?"

She swung the door open and bolted from the room. She was humiliated to have admitted that to him. Not many knew she had been betrayed. Most thought she and Ron had simply grown apart; some even thought they were still together, as Mrs. Malfoy had when Hermione had first arrived. She could already hear the hateful things he'd say about Ron, being a pureblood, not wanting to be with her; or possibly he'd comment about how she couldn't keep him happy and satisfied, that she'd drove him to another woman with her frigidness; maybe he'd make a jab about her hair and call her filthy and ugly, he'd say it was no less than what she deserved. No matter the path he took, she had no desire to stand around and find out what it would be.

He followed her into the hall and saw her already nearing the corner.

"Granger!" he yelled after her; his angry voice echoed off the vaulted ceiling. He took off after her at a full sprint. He couldn't stand someone turning their back on him, or walking, or rather running, from an argument; he wasn't done with her yet.

He rounded the corner and found he'd gained on her. She must not have expected him to follow her because she had stopped running and now strode angrily away from him.

"Granger," he said again; his tone divulged his unabated anger. He picked up his pace, almost within reach of her. "_Granger_," he hissed at her.

She still did not stop. He grasped her shoulder and spun her around. She slammed into the green wall, between two portraits of Draco's ancestors who gaped in shock at him and his crazed actions. Two solitary tears trailed her cheeks and she looked up at him through anger-hazed eyes.  
"Let me _go_!" she growled.

He was angry with her, even then, but he couldn't entirely remember why.

It seemed they were volatile together, unable to exist in close proximity for long without an explosion. They were a dangerous combination, an unstable concoction. Their union had the unpredictability of a sweating stick of dynamite.

He breathed heavily, as did she, and he fought to keep her in place as she continued to fight against him. He released her shoulders, but before she could use it to her advantage, he placed his hands firmly on either side of her face and kissed her. She stopped struggling but did not respond with much zeal. He was the kisser; his lips demanded her attention and received none.

He pulled away from her and released her. He had not taken a single step back when she planted a hand on his chest and pushed him away from her. He started to speak but a loud, resounding crack filled the hall. It took several seconds for him to realize he'd just been slapped silly. His cheek smarted and he opened and closed his jaw, flexing the abused muscle. His eyes were wide with shock as he comprehended what happened.

"_Fuck_," he muttered as he touched his crimson cheek and watched Hermione continue down the hall to her room.

* * *

**AN:_ Here's Chapter 17, just finished today! :) To those that had mentioned the lack of reviews, I had all these chapters posted already on HPFF, I came over here and decided to get the story up so it's only been up about 2-3 days now so there hasn't been a chapter by chapter update to get lots of reviews. I want to thank all of you who have taken the time to comment though, I really appreciate it and love reading what you all think. _**


	18. Chapter 18: The Very Best of Friends

Draco sat in the dining room, listening to the crinkling of papers and the clattering of china, as he glared at the large doors that did not open. He willed them to, but they would not obey.

She had not come to dinner the night before nor, did it appear, would she show for breakfast. Her door had not budged from the moment she slammed it shut. He didn't dare enter for fear of receiving something worse than the slap she'd given him.

It was asinine to believe that she, the great, noble Hermione Granger, would ever be unfaithful, no less with the most loyal man in the wizarding world. Draco was a fool. But let it not be said that Draco Malfoy was not a possessive man. That much was evident. No one could acquire something he had set his mind on having. And he had set his sights on her.

She had forever been unobtainable, untouchable, forbidden. And now she was his. The improbability of it all made it that much more urgent to keep her. She would not slip through his grasp, he would not allow it. One third of the Golden Trio possessed by the Malfoy name.

A small smile graced his lips at the thought.

Nothing had ever been unobtainable to a Malfoy. Nothing until her. Could he love her? He thought it unlikely. Could he care for her? Perhaps, only time would tell. But she would be his and no one else's, that much he knew for certain.

Draco Malfoy lied to himself. He lied to himself every day. When had it begun? When had it ended; but honestly, had it ever? She was just another girl in his year, a name without a face, until she dared speak to him, to cut him as deeply as he had cut the red-headed weasel. She was a Gryffindor through and through. At that moment, she began to exist in his world. It was as though her blurred image next to the boy-who-lived suddenly cleared. She was no longer faceless, she was Hermione Granger. She alone defied every Pureblood policy that had been drilled into his head. She was pretty and brilliant, kind and loyal. Everything she was not supposed to be.

She tried to ignore him, tried to discourage her friends from fighting with him. That was maddening as well. He wasn't one to be ignored. But she _couldn't_ ignore him, he did _not_ go unnoticed. If he had, why would she react as strongly as she had? She had hit him, hit _him_, when no one else had ever dared lay a finger on him. Not even his parents had ever raised their hand to him. The nerve, the audacity.

He rarely called her Mudblood after that. When he insulted her two guardians, she still had a name. They were Scarhead, Weasel, and Granger. He complained about her incessantly, to anyone who would listen: his father, his friends, Pansy. Anyone could have noticed, anyone could have thought from the amount of attention he gave her that he harbored a mild obsession for the little Muggleborn witch. Maybe they all over looked it. Maybe they lied to themselves as well. It was only Nott who would smirk at him during his Granger rants, that knowing little smile. Always perceptive, Nott was, seeing, hearing, and understanding more than he ever should have.

Only Nott could accurately interpret his childish anger for the jealousy that it really was. Seeing the three of them together, seeing the way she looked at that stupid oaf Weasley, sickened him. What did she see in him? He was almost as slow as Goyle and he never noticed her. While he watched the trio in the Great Hall, Nott watched him.

He had always wanted her. Maybe it was because he couldn't have her, maybe it was because she infuriated him like no other, no matter the reason, the crush lingered. Looking back at those memories, even now, he couldn't see it. He told himself it was anger and only that; he hated her. He hated that she always had better marks than him. He hated that she and her two idiots could sneak about the school and never get punished. He hated her and nothing more.

It was Nott who turned that insightful smirk to Draco when he finally conceded to marry her. That was something he had fought tooth and nail. He couldn't even say why, denial perhaps? He didn't want to marry someone he hated, of course.

And now, after so many years, she was his. Something he had never dreamed would happen was suddenly being handed to him. She was his. He knew it was unlikely she'd ever love him, not like Pansy had, but that hardly mattered, so he told himself. And yet, seeing her and Potter together _had_ mattered. It still ignited that old, heart-clenching feeling, and anger within him. But it wasn't jealousy, _no_, it wasn't that.

He wanted to hate her, he _needed_ to hate her. And he had built his walls so high and so strong that it was easy to not let anything out that he didn't want seen. He couldn't ever allow her to know how he truly felt; he couldn't even let himself know. It would be disastrous. He hadn't the fortitude to be rejected by her. So to avoid the chance of rejection, he was cruel and unwelcoming. He wouldn't let her in and under his skin. Nothing good could come of it.

"Draco," Narcissa said, breaking the silence.

He redirected his scowl to her and quirked a brow in answer.

"You really should take Hermione out, do something together," she suggested softly.

"Why would I want to do that?"

"To get to know her better, of course," his mother answered.

"Even if I wanted to, as you say, get to _know_ her better, I highly doubt she wants anything to do with me," he said.

"Well, you'll never know unless you try," she said with a huff, and sipped her tea.

Draco looked through her and felt his stomach plummet to his toes.

"I don't think it's a good idea," he finally said.

"Well, _I do_. You're going to be married to her, you can't continue as you are."

"Of course we can," he said stubbornly.

"Draco, I insist," Narcissa finally said in a motherly tone.

"Mother, I _refuse_," he replied.

"Do as your mother asks, boy," Lucius finally said, having been silently reading the paper through the entire meal.

Draco narrowed his eyes at his father and stood from the table. He left the room muttering about '_crazy old goats, setting him up for failure_'.

* * *

Draco stood outside of her door, contemplating what to say, how to say it. There was no easy way to go about it. He'd have to apologize to make any headway. He was not one to apologize. He didn't even know how to go about it. He raised his hand to knock and retracted it several times. He cleared his throat and stared at the door, as if it had all the answers for him, if he'd only wait long enough.

The door opened and Hermione appeared with her hands on her hips. How had she known he was there?

"You need something?"

"No… err… I mean… yes."

"Is it yes or no?" she asked.

"Uhh… yes…" He stood silently unsure of how to proceed.

"And…?" She was becoming very impatient.

"Well… you see… ahem," he cleared his throat and looked down the hall. "My mother _insists_ we spend the day together-"

Hermione scoffed at him.

"Yes, that's about what I said. But uh… well she won't leave it alone until we go, so…"

"And if I were to even _want_ to spend the day with you, where _exactly_ would you propose we go?" She lifted the silver chain from under her collar and looked at him disdainfully.

"Right…uh…" He ran a hand through his hair and shoved his other in his pocket. "Is there anything you want to do-"

"With you? No," she replied.

She was punishing him. He wouldn't get off so easy without some sort of apology. She had dealt with men long enough to know they couldn't stand the cold shoulder long. They'd do the right thing, they just needed motivation.

"So… you play Quidditch?" he started.

"Have you _ever_ known me to be even _slightly_ interested in Quidditch?" she demanded.

"Well I…" he stopped.

He wanted to say he didn't know her well enough to say, but that was a lie. He knew very well he'd watched her at Quidditch matches, to see if she cheered for Potter or worried over Weasley. He knew when she _did_ attend the games she rarely appeared to know what was going on. Usually, she had her nose in a book and cheered when those around her did. Hell, he and Weasley had had tussle under her seat in the stands and she hadn't noticed, so worried for Potter's safety was she. "No, not exactly."

"Any other _brilliant_ ideas?" she asked.

"Well, do you fly?"

"No, not at all," she answered a little too quickly.

He looked at her curiously. "Because you dislike it?"

"Well… yes, _mostly_, of course there are-" she began to ramble.

"You _can_ fly can't you?" A smirk was starting to form at the corner of his mouth.

Her face hardened and she glared at him, "Not _exactly_, I've never really had a desire to."

"You _can't_?" He practically beamed at her. "Are you scared?"

She looked even angrier than she had moments before. "I'm _not_. I just don't see the point. It's silly… and dangerous."

He guffawed and she knew he knew the truth.

"Well, then, this is a perfect time to learn, I'll teach you," he said.

"You can't teach me-"

"Why? You have proficiency for learning everything it seems…"

"_Because_!" She yelled at him, "You can't teach me to not be afraid of heights! It's a natural reaction to want your feet firmly on the ground. You can't learn that away!"

"Where's that Gryffindor bravery? Don't you ever take any chances, Granger?"

She was quickly forgetting he was supposed to apologize. Mainly, because he was incensing her anger over something else entirely.

"Of course I do. I can't count the number of times Harry and Ron nearly had us expelled-"

She was cut short by his loud bark of laughter. When he looked back at her, his eyes were shining with humor.

"_Expelled_? You were out fighting the Dark Lord and foiling his plans and you were worried about being _expelled_? What? Was that a fate worse than death?"

She blushed furiously.

"You couldn't possibly understand," she said angrily.

"No… I don't. I imagine your years at Hogwarts were much more interesting than mine. I'd have loved to have been sneaking about like you and your saviors."

"You know… perhaps you could have… if you hadn't been so hell bent on hating us and being an evil-"

"Yes, what _was_ it? Foul, loathsome, twitchy?"

She blushed again and looked away sheepishly, "You remember that?"

"Oh, yes, among other things. You Gryffindors had such _lovely_, _colorful_ adjectives for me."

"Well… you weren't _exactly_ very likable, you know," she said defensively.

"And I suppose I'm likable now?" he said with a devious smirk.

"I never said _that_," she answered. "You're just not… _quite_ as bad as you were then. You can be tolerable… at times."

"Oh, I can be more than _tolerable_," he said taking a step closer to her.

She backed away from him and raised a cynical brow at him.

"I'm still not going flying with you," she said, distracting him.

"Of course you are," he said. "You wouldn't want to disappoint my mother would you? She's _so_ looking forward to you and I being _good_ friends."

He was trying to fluster her. Though his methods may not have been as cruel as they were as a child, he was still a malicious little git.

"Yes, I'm _sure_ she is. Grandchildren would have nothing to do with that, right?"

Draco grimaced. "Merlin, woman, you're like a bucket of ice."

"Thank you." She inclined her head in mock gratitude.

"Well. On with the festivities," he said, stepping closer to her and snaking an arm around her waist before she could react.

"What are you-"

Her sentence was cut short by the familiar sensation of Apparition.

"_Oh_!" She squealed. "That is the _rudest_ thing- I _never_ in all my- don't you _ever_ do that again!" She scolded him with her broken thoughts.

"Mmm," he responded without feeling.

She looked around, trying to guess where they were. Somewhere on the grounds still, she figured. A small, musty room with a wooden bench in the center is what she saw. She watched Draco cross the small space and open a closet, withdrawing a sleek, shiny black broom. Her eyes widened.

"_Oh_! You _snake_!" she hissed and turned hurriedly to find the only door the room possessed. Snatching the handle, she pulled and twisted but was unable to budge it any.

She froze when his warm breath tickled her ear, "Come now, Granger, it's not all _that_ bad. And you can't open that door, darling, I have the key."

His hand appeared in front of her face, dangling the large, gold key from a green, satin cord momentarily before it vanished behind her head again. She felt him move behind her but everything was happening far too quickly for her to predict his actions and prepare for them. She felt something cold and hard slide between her legs and she looked down in alarm to see the black handle of the broom jutting from between her thighs.

"No, no, _no_," she began, suddenly comprehending what was happening.

The pull of Apparition hit her again and she opened her eyes to find them in the midst of a very large, grassy clearing. The hoops of a Quidditch pitch were at the farthest end and looked like lone sentinels on the green clearing. Only briefly, fleetingly, the angry thought that the Malfoys gave Draco his own Quidditch pitch flittered through her mind.

Her eyes widened as she felt his hands reach around her and grasp the front of the broom.

"Please, no, _please_," she began in a small, fearful voice, but he wasn't listening.

She felt the minute change in balance as he bent his knees and her eyes widened even further in terror only seconds before he pushed away from the ground and sent them soaring into the sky. The greenery below her became more and more distant.

She was completely unaware of her hands grasping his wrists so tightly her fingers were white. She did not hear her own voice shrilly filling the peaceful silence of the meadow with a gut-wrenching scream. She was only aware of these things when the broom froze, far too high above the ground, and one strong hand clasped over her mouth, muffling her.

"Dear Merlin, I don't think they quite heard you in France, you know," Draco said as he shook his head, trying to rid his ears of the ringing.

He slowly removed his hand, expecting her to shriek again. Instead, she stared below them at the ground far away. Her breathing was a fast panting as panic took over her body.

"Take me down," she said between small gasps. "_Please_."

Her heart pounded in her chest and she felt as though she had left her stomach on the ground below them. She felt her throat constrict tightly and her mouth begin to water as the tell tale signs of sickness swept over her.

"I'm going to be sick," she said quickly.

"No, you're not. Breathe through your mouth," he instructed in a soft, calm voice.

She did as he said and continued panting as she fought the urge to retch.

"Stop looking at the ground," he said while he grasped the handle again.

"What," she panted, "would I," she swallowed, "look at?"

"Look at the horizon, look at the clouds, just don't look down. The vertigo is the worst on the first trip up. You'll be fine in a moment, just focus on something stationary on the horizon."

She looked up and toward the skyline and saw the Manor. She had never before realized it sat so much higher than the land surrounding it, but there it was. It stood regally, like a white beacon in the midst of a black and green landscape. She could see the sprawling gardens that surrounded the house; and she could see that the only thing between the Malfoy Quidditch Pitch and the house was the dark cluster of trees she was forbidden to enter. She gazed at the house and she could swear she saw the magical barriers surrounding it, like a giant, shimmering bubble.

Her breathing had steadied to a more normal rhythm and she was distracted enough to temporarily push aside her fear.

"Take hold of the handle," Draco said.

"What?" she said as her heart took a dive and her fear started to return.

"Grab the handle."

She held the black wood tightly

"Now, just, push it the way you want it to go," he said as he removed one of his hands.

"I can't." Her voice quavered.

"You can, and you have to because I'm letting go."

He released the broom with his other hand and for several long seconds they hovered exactly where they had been. But Hermione was looking at the ground again and at the end of that long pause they began to plummet. Almost instantaneously, she began shrieking again and Draco latched onto the handle, stopping their fall.

"Oi! Granger, are you _trying_ to kill us?" he demanded.

"I _told_ you I _couldn't_ do it! _Please_, just take us down!" Tears were leaking from her eyes as she looked away from the ground, trying to calm herself.

He conceded and a moment later they were on the ground. Hermione staggered away from him and the broom before collapsing on the ground and trembling.

"You're _fine_," he said as he sat on the cool grass beside her.

"I _hate_ flying," she mumbled.

"Really? I couldn't tell," he said with a grin.

"And I hate you," she replied.

"Mmm, tell me something I don't know," he said. She didn't really mean it but it made no difference to him, it felt like she did and always would feel that way about him.

"My middle name is Jean."

He snorted and looked down at her where she still lie in the grass, "Funny, but I knew that already."

Her eyes opened and found his face, "How?"

"It was on the documents, at the Ministry."

"Oh." She bit her lip and thought a moment, "I've used an Unforgiveable."

"Codswallop."

" I did."

"When? On who?"

He expected her to say during one of the many battles she fought against Death Eaters. He never thought she'd be one to use an Unforgivable and he was having a hard time believing it.

"Err, well… it's illegal, you know."

He raised a brow and waited.

"It was Ron, when I caught him and Lavender."

His eyes widened and his mouth fell open, "You _Crucio'd_ him?"

"Heavens, _no_!"

He kept waiting, patiently, and she sighed.

"He wouldn't leave. I didn't want to see him, I wanted to pack a bag and he just _wouldn't_ leave. He kept on about how sorry he was and how much he loved me. I just couldn't take it. I uh…" She bit her lip and blushed. "I _Imperiused_ him. Made him go down to the lobby while I warded the flat and packed. He was so angry. I thought he might beat the door down."

When she finally looked up from the blade of grass she'd been plucking at, she was met with his gaping face. He shook his head, trying to let it sink in.

"_You_? _You_ _Imperiused_ the Weasel?" he said in a disbelieving tone.

She nodded.

"Well, good for you. I probably would have done worse," he said and looked away.

They sat in silence for several minutes.

"Your turn," she finally said.

He looked at her questioningly.

"Tell me something I don't know." She grinned at him.

"Oh…" he pursed his lips and looked off at the tree line. "I've never killed anyone. I know most people think I have, but I haven't."

She stared at him for a moment with wide eyes, she hadn't expected _that_.

"You thought otherwise, didn't you?" he asked upon seeing her reaction.

"Oh… oh _no_… I never assumed- that is to say, I never _thought_…" she shook her head, completely at a loss for words. Then she whispered, "You're not a killer."

His head turned to her and looked paler than normal. It had been a long time since he had heard those words spoken and yet the memory was so fresh.

"You don't know that," he finally replied bitterly, the horror of his past washing over him.

"He never… he never blamed you, Draco, he knew everything all along and he never…" she stopped and didn't bother to finish.

"I was a coward. I never did what I thought was right, I was too scared. And I never really thought for myself, I just did what they told me to. Even now…"

"Now what?" Hermione asked.

"Nothing."

She cleared her throat and looked away, feeling the discomfort of the moment fully. They had stood so firmly on opposite sides in their past and yet they sat together, sharing a future. They remained that way quietly listening to the wind rustling the trees around them and the birds occasionally twittering.

"I'm sorry…" she said after several minutes, "for last night, I mean. I… overreacted. I shouldn't have slapped you and I apologize."

He looked at her and smirked, "I can't say I didn't deserve it… both times."

"Yeah about that… I had a lot going on that year. I was really stressed out and I just couldn't deal with you and your snarky comments any longer. I'm sorry for that too. I don't usually behave so… impulsively."

"Yes, it's just me, right? You can't control yourself around me, can you?" he asked in a cheeky tone.

She rolled her eyes at him but couldn't suppress a grin.

"So… I believe it's your turn now…" he said.

"Oh, err…" she scrunched her brow and tried to think of something. She looked over at him and smirked, "I broke Krum's heart in fourth year."

He looked at her and raised an inquisitive brow, "So there was actually something to that? It was a subject of _much_ discussion in the Slytherin common room."

"_Oh_, and what was said?"

"I think the general consensus was that he was using you to get information about Potter; because _clearly_, a Pureblooded, dark wizard from Durmstrang would want _nothing_ to do with an insufferable, Muggleborn witch such as _yourself_."

"Oh, _really_ now? I suppose that's why he wrote me for a year following the Tournament _begging_ me to visit him?"

"Did he?" Draco asked, suddenly even more interested in her story.

"Yes. I still hear from him occasionally, holidays mainly. He sends me a card letting me know he's still available and misses me," she said with a grin.

"So _you're_ the reason he's still a bachelor?" Draco asked, completely awestruck by what he was hearing.

She shrugged.

"Un_believable_," he muttered.

"Your go," she said, still smiling triumphantly.

"Well, that's going to be hard to top honestly. Let's see…" he narrowed his eyes as he thought.

Hermione began plucking at grass blades in front of her, tearing them to tiny bits before sprinkling her confetti on the ground.

"That year, at the Yule ball, Pansy was _so_ jealous of you, I _truly_ thought she was going to curse you," he finally said.

"_What_?" she asked as her head snapped up and her current piece of grass flittered from her hand. "Because of _Krum_?"

"Well that and the fact that every boy in Slytherin was talking about you. She was _furious_."

"_Every_ boy?" she asked curiously.

He nodded, "Yes, Blaise was particularly vocal about how smashing you looked."

She studied him for a moment before asking again, "_Every boy_?"

He nodded, not quite understanding why she had asked the same question again.

"You're _sure_?" He looked at her curiously and nodded. "And what has that to do with _you_? This is supposed to be something I don't know about _you_…"

"Uhh…" A faint pink tinge colored his pale cheeks. "_Actually_ it was just something you don't know…" He cleared his throat by coughing and then said quickly, "You didn't know about that."

"No, I didn't, but you're sure it was _every_ Slytherin boy?" She grinned as he shifted uneasily.

"Well, perhaps not _every_ boy," he backpedaled.

"Oh…" she said sweetly.

He cleared his throat again and looked away, "It's your turn isn't it?"

"Alright," she grinned at the side of his face she could see, "I actually felt _quite_ bad for you after the ferret incident. You could have been seriously injured and Moody, well Crouch I should say, had no right to do such a thing to a student."

He looked back at her with raised brows and a slight smirk.

"Not that you didn't make an _absolutely_ _adorable_ ferret," she added.

He rolled his eyes and shook his head as he looked away.

"You're it," she said with a grin. She didn't feel at all like she was conversing with Draco Malfoy. This was not the same boy she thought she knew.

"I don't have the Dark Mark," he blurted out. He realized as soon as the words left his mouth and his eyes widened slightly.

Hermione felt her heart skip a beat and she worried again that he might have somehow heard her and Harry's discussion.

From the scared look on her face, he assumed she didn't believe him and he rolled the left sleeve of his shirt up, revealing a milky white forearm.

"It went away?" she asked quietly.

"No, I never had it…" he answered as he lowered his sleeve.

"Oh…" she said quietly. "We thought… after sixth year… well it seemed."

"No, it was to be my reward if I succeeded, death if I failed, and as what happened was somewhere in between I lived and didn't get the Mark."

"Did you want it?" she asked softly.

"At first I thought I did." He went silent and stared at the ground. "It was too much… I was actually _relieved_ when he felt I didn't deserve it. By then I didn't want it at all."

"But…" she hesitated, "but in the Room of Requirement you wanted to capture Harry."

"There was still a chance _he_ would win…" he said, looking at her for the first time in several minutes. "If he had… you don't know what it was like… my family… you _can't_ understand."

She shook her head, agreeing that she didn't.

"I _don't_ know what it was like, but I think I understand why you did the things you did."

She looked into his eyes and saw sorrow.

"It was never how I wanted it-"

"None of us did."

"I actually _wanted_ Potter to win-"

"Of course you would."

"If Aunt Bella hadn't taught me Occlumency, and to think she taught me so that… so that…" He swallowed. "So that he wouldn't know what was planned, what I was supposed to do to him…"

"Dumbledore…" she said softly and he nodded.

"If she hadn't taught me, and _he_ had seen those thoughts, that I _wanted_ Potter to beat him, we would have all died."

Hermione nodded sympathetically. She had never considered what had happened in the Malfoy house throughout that long year they were running. She never really thought that maybe, Lucius and Narcissa had stopped truly supporting _him_ much earlier than the final battle.

"My father…" he continued, feeling the need to explain himself and his family, "he's not a bad person. He's done things he's not proud of… but he thought he _had_ to, he didn't see any other way…"

"But the Order-"

"Would _never_ have trusted him, no matter what Dumbledore said. He would never have risked that. He never would have taken the chance of being turned away so that no one would protect us and our deception would have been clear. He was _only_ trying to protect us. He was too far in to walk away, he never _meant_ anything-"

"Draco," she stopped him, "it's alright. We've _all_ done things we aren't proud of."

"What have _you_ done you aren't proud of?" he asked.

"I… I was as guilty as you with prejudices. It was _so_ easy to believe Slytherins were-"

"Evil?"

"Yes. Perhaps… perhaps if we had seen things clearly…"

They sat silently for a while, reflecting.

He finally stood up, with his broom in hand, and pulled her to her feet. Without a word, he Apparated them back to the Manor.

**

* * *

**

AN: _Well there's Chapter 18. I really dislike that I can't respond to your comments over here, but I will try to find all of them and answer here:_

HarryPGinnyW4eva - **_I decided to post it here as well because of all the server issues they had last week and all. That was the main reason it took me so long to update. I like being able to post the chapters straight away over here, but usually it takes me close to a week to get one finished... I'm going to try to do 2 this week, or at the very least start on 19 now that 18 is done._**

dracosgem - **_Yes, I will be updating on both sites, obvisouly, it will probably be up here before there but I am going to update both. :)_**

margaritama - **_At the time it was because he was angry with her, he couldn't torture her in any conventional way and he wanted to know what ways he could. He wanted a loophole so that he could get her back._**

headoverheels4HP - **_I try to update once a week, lately it's been a little slower. Originally I had written about 13 chapters before I posted anything. When I moved I didn't have time to write and wound up posting all my completed work and having nothing ready. So, I have to post them as I finish them. Usually, it's once a week... but it can drag out a little longer depending whats going on with my life._**

Dershana - **_I'm glad you like it! :) And to answer you question, I had a really long answer to pretty much the same question on HPFF but it was too long to post there, it's actually on my blog. You can see it by going to my Author page and using the link. And another thing, I've beta'd a lot for other sites so I don't send my work out to anyone._**

**_Usually, I think I've caught most of my spelling and gramatical errors but if you see something you think is wrong, please let me know so I can fix it! _**

**__**

And because I can't respond to reviews here, if anyone has a question about a chapter, feel free to visit my blog and post there, I can answer much faster that way.

Thank you all for reviewing, I hope you enjoyed this chapter! :)

(( If I missed your question, I apologize, feel free to ask again here or on my blog or even over on HPFF, I'll try to respond wherever it is))


	19. Chapter 19: The Best Gift in a Long Time

After they returned to the house and went about their own business, Hermione didn't see much more of Draco. He seemed to be avoiding _her_ now and _that_ she just couldn't understand. She had thought things had gone rather well on their date, if it could be called that. But she supposed it may as well be called that, it was the closest thing to a date they'd have before they were actually married, which upon further consideration she found _very_ odd. She'd never dreamed herself into a position such as the one she found herself. It was all very strange and confusing.

Neither had she seen Draco nor had she stumbled upon any of his secret meetings. She was relieved she didn't have to go to drastic measures to see if he had the Dark Mark. It was extremely fortuitous how that morsel of information had just been handed to her. In many ways it laid to rest some of her preconceptions about the man. She felt as though some of the ice that so carefully surrounded him had melted and she feared it hardening again, though she was unsure of how to prevent such a thing with him.

She could only hope when they met next that their relationship hadn't regressed any. But thoughts of Draco slipped easily from her mind in the turmoil that she found herself.

She looked at her reflection in the full length mirror and smoothed out the waist of the ivory gown she was wearing. The happenings behind her were like a monotonous buzz she had tuned out completely. The other women present didn't even register in her vision, being only moving blurs of color.

She inspected the beautiful dress forlornly and plucked at some of the intricate beading as reality flooded her mind. She found herself overwhelmed with emotions. She finally realized what was facing her, what this white dress truly meant to a daughter.

Her mother should have been there with her, helping her pick out her dress and accessories. Her mother should have been the one gushing over her and telling her how beautiful she looked. But her mum would never see her; she wouldn't watch her walk down the aisle. She'd never hold her grandchildren or comfort Hermione in her desperation. And her father wouldn't give her away. His eyes wouldn't glisten with tears as he handed her over to the groom. He wouldn't share a dance with her at the reception and he wouldn't kiss her forehead and tell her she'd always be his baby girl.

The sadness and emptiness were devastating; and so lost was she in her thoughts, she did not notice when she began to cry.

"Oh, _darling_," Narcissa murmured as she rushed over to the distressed girl. She wrapped her arms around the young woman and pulled her off the small step she had been standing on. "There, there, what's the matter, dear?"

All commotion in the large room came to an end and all eyes were on the bride to be, who was by then sobbing quite hysterically.

"My-mum," she said between sobs but got no further as a tortured wail escaped her lips.

Narcissa looked imploringly at the other girls in the room. Only Ginny seemed to comprehend the true issue.

"Her parents," Ginny said softly and silently mouthed _died_ to her.

Narcissa nodded in understanding. She patted Hermione's back and held her tighter as she guided her to a small red sofa. As she rocked the girl gently, she whispered to her, "Alright then, have a good cry. "

A soft pop sounded and startled the women who had been watching Hermione's breakdown sympathetically. Parvati had even let loose a small squeak.

"Dettie is sorry, miss," the little elf said to the girl as she crossed the room to her mistress. She gripped the edge of the French lace handkerchief she wore and wrung it anxiously. "Can Dettie get something for the Miss?"

"Yes, tea, please," Narcissa said as she continued to comfort the young woman in her arms.

The elf nodded fervently before vanishing.

Ginny sat on the other side of Hermione and softly rubbed her back.

"_Mother_! Mother, I'm coming in," Draco bellowed in the hall.

"Oh, _what now_?" Narcissa hissed at no one in particular.

The door opened slowly; Draco had wisely decided to move leisurely and give them plenty of time to hide away their charge. However, he did not expect to be met with pitch black darkness. It took several moments for him to realize what had happened. His hands reached up to his face and he felt the black, satin blindfold that was magically fixed over his eyes. He frowned and faced the direction he assumed they were standing in.

"I need-"but his thought was cut short by a hushed sob. "Is someone _crying_?"

"What is it you need, Draco?" his mother asked, and he turned to face her voice. She sounded rather irritated with him and he couldn't quite figure why.

He furrowed his brow and looked without sight at the women.

"What's going on in here? Who's crying?"

"_Draco_," his mother said in warning.

He sighed and began to speak, "I came to ask Hermione something…" He frowned, looking slightly confused before continuing, "But I suppose it can wait."

He waited for some sort of response but his presence seemed to have been forgotten.

"There, now," he heard his mother saying. "What would cheer you up, darling? What would you like to do?"

Hermione sat up and wiped the tears from her slick face. "I can't, not here," she mumbled.

"Can't what, dear?" Narcissa asked.

Draco stood silently by the door, partially hidden in the alcove entry of the room.

"A movie," she started before another bout of tears hit her. Between her renewed sobs she managed to say, "We'd always watch a movie, but I can't here."

Narcissa's brow pinched in confusion. She looked up at the other girls for explanation.

"A movie, it's a Muggle thing," Ginny started. She had seen several movies by then and thought herself quite the expert on the subject. "It's like a Wizard picture, it moves, but there's also sound. They usually tell stories of a sort. It's really fascinating."

"Why can't she use it here?" Narcissa asked, only partially understanding the concept. It was something easier to understand once one had seen it first hand, as Ginny knew.

"It's an elec-tro-nick device," Ginny said, still sounding like an expert on the subject to all the clueless witches present. To their dumbfounded expressions, she elaborated, "They don't work around magic."

"Not at all?" Narcissa questioned further.

"Well… not usually, but my dad," she stopped a moment to think. "You know, I wonder…"

Before she could be queried any further, she rose from the couch and hurried towards the door. She stopped and tilted her head to the side, finally noticing the eavesdropping man still present.

"Do you need help, Malfoy?" she asked.

"What?" he replied, slightly startled by her close proximity. His one spoken word caused every head in the room to turn to him, all having thought him long gone.

"I thought you had left already, do you need help finding the door?" she asked.

"Of course not," he said. He crossed his arms across his chest and looked blindly over her head, perturbed that she would suggest he couldn't manage on his own.

"Alright, then," she said with a smile and opened the door to leave.

In the hall, she was already several paces from the door when she heard him thud into the heavy wood and hiss a profanity. She smirked wider when she heard Narcissa scolding him for his language and hurried on her way. She had a mission to complete.

When she reached the corner, behind her she heard an echoing shout, "Hey, red, wait up!"

* * *

Hermione woke the next day, sometime around lunch she figured by the set of the sun. She couldn't place exactly how she got into bed or when she passed out so completely she missed half of her day and all of her night. She remembered her emotional breakdown, something very out of character for her. She hadn't had a good cry like that in a very, very long time. She hadn't ever really acknowledged her parents' death. Everything had hit her at once and the weight had been too much to shoulder.

She was actually quite embarrassed for acting like such a child in front of Narcissa and the other women. She mentally chided herself as she showered and dressed for the day.

Once she was ready, she stood at the foot of her bed and tried to think of something to do. Life had become rather boring during her stay at the Manor, what with being stuck to the grounds and all. She was beginning to feel stir crazy and anxious. Just as she decided on heading to the library and burying her nose in a book, one of the house elves popped in.

The little elf bowed low, almost touching the highly polished floor. She straightened herself and spoke as she clutched her silk tea cozy.

"Master says for Miss to go to the…" she paused a moment and crinkled her brow as she tried to remember her master's words, "the old ball room."

She smiled up at Hermione, obviously pleased that she relayed the message properly.

Hermione shook her head at the little elf, "I don't know what room he means."

"Sneazle will show you, Miss," the little elf reached up to grasp the girl's hand.

Hermione smiled at her warmly and took her tiny hand, whilst wondering just how many house elves the Malfoys employed.

* * *

Whatever she had expected, it was not what she was met with.

Hermione entered the dimly lit room and waited a moment for her eyes to adjust. As they did, she began to take in familiar objects and she felt her heart leap for a moment. She approached the device and fingered it gently.

"It's not possible," she whispered, shaking her head and send her curls bouncing about on her shoulders.

"Ahem."

Hermione whirled around and looked at the dark figure before her. "Malfoy…"

"Eh… yes," he sounded slightly flustered, nervous even. "I don't know exactly how that… thing… works but I've been assured it functions properly."

"Wha.... How did you…" Hermione started asking, her mind reeling with questions.

He stood silently while she gathered her thoughts. He was bathed in darkness, the only light spilling through the open corridor door behind him. Because of that, she could not see or read his face. He was just a shadowy figure.

"Weaslette mentioned it might cheer you up some," he finally offered.

"Oh. She did?" Hermione responded, sounding slightly disappointed that it wasn't his idea. "Well, thank you for going to the trouble for me."

"It was nothing," he said softly before turning away from her and walking towards the door.

"Mal… Draco," she said. She quickly covered the distance between them and he stopped in the door without turning to face her.

"Draco," she said again and he turned sideways. She stepped into the doorway with him and for the first time since he had appeared she could see half of his face bathed in light.

"Thank you," she said, with more sincerity than before.

He looked away from her, into the dark room, and faintly she could see a pink tinge tinting his pale cheek. He swallowed deeply and his Adam's apple bobbed.

He looked back at her and gave her a sharp nod before turning into the hall and hurrying away from her.

As she watched his retreating form, she could only wonder what was happening between them. Draco Malfoy had blushed because of _her_. Draco Malfoy had been nice, to _her_. Draco Malfoy had cast aside his selfish ego, if only for a little while, and done something thoughtful, something charitable, for someone else, for _her_.

She returned to the room and smiled to herself. She lifted a small box and studied the cover before removing the silvery disc within it and sliding it into the device.

She planted herself before the screen to partake in her second favorite pastime and enjoy, quite possibly, the best gift she'd received in a very long time.

* * *

**_First, I want to apologize for the long delay. I've had the hardest time getting through this chapter. I have most of the story planned but I have severely lacked motivation to write... I'm sure it's just the Winter blues setting in and slowing me down. But even though it's short, it's better than nothing! And honestly, I needed this one to end here b/c the next chapter has a lot more going on that is... well... a completely different mood/scene. _**

**_Next, thank you all for reviewing! I really appreciate it and it makes me feel so good to read your comments. It really helps make me want to write more even if I don't feel like it. So thank you for taking the time to review._**

**_And finally, there's been mentions several times so I'll address them all here. I researched all the names JKR used in the books. I've tried to keep the naming schemes canon with hers. Which have followed specific guidelines from what I've seen. They have either been stellar names (Constellations, stars, asteroids, etc.); Latin/Roman/Greek/Mythological names; flower names; or very classic, almost medieval names (Ronald, George, Percivil, Neville, etc.). That being said, I have found only 2 mentions of where JKR discusses/has written about Asteria. In one occasion she spelled the name one way Asteria/Astoria, and on the second, in an interview, she pronounced it another way. Thus, we have 2 different names that could possibly be the real one without confirmation of which is accurate from JKR. That in mind, I went with Asteria, because it is both a Greek/Mythological name and it's the name of an asteroid. Astoria.... wasn't found anywhere at all in my searches. While I like the sound of Astoria, the way it rolls of your tongue, I really think Asteria is the one JKR would have used since it fits her naming scheme. (And I think in Latin or Greek Aster means star as well if I remember correctly). So I hope that clears up why I chose Asteria. And if you have a source where JKR confirmed which spelling is the accurate one, by all means, leave me a review and let me know. :)_**

**_I apologize again, and I will try very hard to get Chapter 20 finished in a timely manner. I hope everyone have happy and safe Holidays! _**


	20. Chapter 20: The Absurdities of Family

Chapter 20

Four days.

Four days, six hours and twenty-five minutes.

That was all the time she had left to be a Granger. And she was the last at that.

She gazed obstinately into the mirror and frowned at her reflection as she fought a crashing wave of sadness.

The Last Granger.

It sounded like some sappy adventure novel she would have read as a child.

She knew that no matter who, or where, or when, she would have married and changed her name eventually. Or would she have? Perhaps she would have stubbornly stayed Hermione Granger forever. Or perhaps Granger-Weasley, in a perfect world where imbeciles like Ronald Weasley didn't exist.

Her frown deepened, creating unattractive crow's feet around her mouth, but the brief sadness was replaced with anger and frustration.

This was business. This was a job. An assignment. She couldn't lose herself in her sentimentality. Or she shouldn't. And she _damn_ sure shouldn't give a hippogriff's tail feather about Draco-sodding-Malfoy. That could complicate things. Greatly.

_Hermione Malfoy. Hermione Malfoy_. _Hermione Malfoy. Hermione Malfoy._

She repeated the name in her mind until the words sounded alien.

"This is _ridiculous_," she said to the wild-haired girl in the looking glass before walking away.

She stood before the grand, blue covered bed she now called her own. She restlessly reached up and twisted an uncontrollable curl around her finger. She chewed on her bottom lip and began pacing.

She stopped and sighed at her anxious behavior. She threw her hands in the air in defeat and left the safety of her room.

* * *

Hermione wandered the empty corridors of the manner. As she neared the corner turning into the hall before Draco's study, she heard voices and slowed her pace to listen.

"Mother! _Why_ did you invite _them_?" Draco angrily asked Narcissa.

"_Draco_, don't speak to your mother with that tone," Lucius admonished him in a dangerously quiet voice.

Hermione's brows shot up, imagining Lucius giving Draco a good lashing for his smart mouth.

"Draco, dear, you should have expected it," she answered softly. "They _are_ family."

"Yes, but…" Draco stopped and huffed. Hermione's imagination supplied the harsh look he surely received from Lucius. He conceded to the inevitable, "_Fine_."

Hermione heard a soft pop; one of the house-elves had joined them.

"They has arrived, Mistress," she heard the elf say.

Hermione resumed walking and rounded the corner. She paused as if just noticing the three Malfoys.

"What's going on?" she asked innocently.

Narcissa smiled at her and closed the distance between them. She reached up and righted a few severely out-of-place curls and spoke. "Lucius' family has arrived, dear."

"Oh," she answered, slightly surprised. She was not aware Lucius had family remaining on his side. "I didn't realize…"

"Mmmff," Lucius growled, omnipotently knowing what she was going to comment on. "It's _unfortunate_, that's for sure." He said before brushing passed the women towards the main staircase.

Narcissa gave her one last, motherly smile before following her husband.

She was left standing before Draco and looking at him inquisitively.

He sighed. Clearly, the Malfoy men were not looking forward to the visit of their… _family_.

"My father's cousin's family has arrived for the wedding," he stated bitterly as he moved to stand beside her.

Echoed voices drifted up the stairs and around the corridors to them. Draco's eyes narrowed in the general direction of the sounds.

"Are they _that_ bad?" she asked. She was beginning to dread meeting these people.

He glanced at her before nodding for her to join him in their rather slow walk towards the foyer.

"They're American," he supplied, as if that explained everything.

She laughed loudly at him. Her tinkling, feminine voice filled the hall and he stopped and frowned at her.

"_What_?" he growled.

"You're so silly, Draco," she said, grinning at him. "What on _Earth_ is _that_ supposed to mean? 'They're American'?" She began laughing again.

They were nearing the top of the staircase and Draco had no desire to continue forward. He looked to his side and reached for the knob of a door. One that Hermione herself hadn't been able to open. He touched the silver metal and the locked clicked, allowing him entrance. He pushed the door open and looked at her expectantly.

"… Oh, yes, he's just upstairs, dear," Narcissa's voice drifted up to them.

They heard footsteps padding up the carpeted stairs.

Draco looked at her urgently and jerked his head into the room; his eyes begged her to enter. She grinned at the absurdity of the situation and darted into the room. The door clicked shut and they stood behind it listening. They both held their breath as they heard the heavy click of men's shoes on the marbled floor.

"Now, would you please…?" Hermione began but Draco's hand silenced her.

"Draco!" A masculine voice called out, much closer to the door than Hermione had expected.

Her eyes widened and she suppressed another giggle.

She felt like a little girl hiding from her great aunt at Christmas. The woman would smother her in hugs and kisses, while Hermione choked on the horrid perfume she always wore. She had taken to hiding from her, much to her parents' dismay. She'd be gently scolded when she was found. But the thrill of it was invigorating, as the adults wandered round, sometimes right passed her, calling her name. Occasionally, the game lasted for a few hours, if she had found a particularly good spot.

The hall was silent for several minutes as they stood in the dark breathing ever so shallowly. As the silence pounded in her ears, she finally noticed how intimately close she and Draco were. She had her back to the door and he stood in front of her, barring her against the hard wood. She had not noticed when she had placed her hands on his hips, most likely when he had abruptly silenced her. His hand that had covered her mouth had slipped down to rest on her shoulder and his breath puffed softly into her curls as he listened. He seemed completely oblivious of and unaffected by their proximity.

She only wished the same could be said of her.

Her body screamed with awareness. Her fingertips were overly sensitive to the silky texture of his shirt, and the contrasting hardness of his stomach beneath it. Each puff of his breath in her hair tickled her neck and goose-flesh rose all over her arms and legs. His rich, intoxicating cologne filled her nostrils with every hurried breath she took. Her heart pounded in her ears and she knew her eyes had dilated because his face was much clearer than it had been moments before.

He still gazed at the door and listened. His mother and the mystery man were chatting in the hall, very near their hiding place, but she could hear nothing save the rushing of her blood in her veins.

She turned her face slightly to look at him better in his complete distraction. His hair was as neatly trimmed as ever, and combed out in a very sophisticated fashion. His head practically glowed in the dim lighting her eyes had found. The white of his hair contrasted sharply with the dark of the room. His jaw was flexed tightly and sparkled slightly with an almost imperceptible growth of golden stubble.

In the same way he had looked at her and noted how beautiful she was in her own way, so did she find was he.

His sharp, pale features screamed of aristocracy and nobility. He stood in a manner that demanded respect, tall with his shoulders squared and nose slightly up. He walked in a way only those knowing they were born to a life of superiority did. However misinformed he may have been about that superiority; lord knew Muggles had been behaving in such ways for decades. It was the walk of kings, princes, and movie stars. Full of confidence and grace. He'd not be one to trip on the red carpet, so aware of his body was he.

All these thoughts passed through her mind in brief seconds. She could feel her stomach clenching and her chest heaved slightly from her excited breathing.

With hazy, lust filled eyes, she unconsciously ran one of her hands from his hip up the front of his chest and felt him stiffen and hold his breath as soon as she did. Her hand continued its journey up until her fingers found the flesh of his neck and the roughness of his jaw where that course, sparkling hair was. His skin was hot, warmer than she had expected. Her other hand drifted up his chest to rest. She felt his heart pounding furiously in its bone cage beneath her hand. His breathing had quickened and he looked down at her as she looked up at him. They started to lean towards each other, awaiting the meeting of their lips.

Without any warning what-so-ever, they were flying, falling into the dark room.

Draco landed on the rug-covered floor with an 'oomph' and Hermione found herself in a very precarious position atop him.

They heard the door click shut.

"What the _devil_?" a familiar drawling voice hissed in the darkness. A wand tip glowed to life and illuminated the three occupants of the room.

"Oh…" Lucius said, taking in the situation, "_terribly_ sorry to have _interrupted_."

Hermione blushed scarlet and scrambled away from Draco who sat up and glared at his father.

"What are you _doing_?" he whispered to the older man.

"The same thing as you, I presume," he said quickly. "_Well_…" he glanced at Hermione, "maybe not _exactly_."

"This is _absurd_!" Hermione said in a louder voice than either man liked, for they both rushed towards her shushing her. Draco's hand firmly covered her mouth again and she snorted in irritation.

Then she heard it and reveled in the hearing of the two men flanking her.

"What on _Earth_," Narcissa said. "I _swear_ he was right here only a moment ago. Where could he have gone?"

They heard her heels clicking around in the hall and several doors open and shut. Hermione felt both of the men freeze in anticipation of the door they watched so carefully opening.

"I'm terribly sorry, Julius, I don't know _where_ they've disappeared to," she said after several moments to someone.

"Oh, don't worry about it," the man replied in an American accent. "They can't hide forever."

"Indeed, would you like some tea?"

The voices faded down the hall and silence loomed over the threesome again.

Both Lucius and Draco sighed in relief.

"Oh _honestly_," Hermione hissed yanking Lucius' wand from his hand and wordlessly casting a silencing spell on the room before just as abruptly returning it to him. "You _are_ wizards, you know."

They stood in the dark in silence for several moments letting that comment linger.

"Are there no _lights_ in this room?" she finally asked.

She heard, rather than saw, Lucius' wand whip through the air and the room illuminated. She was met by two blonde men glaring at her.

She rolled her eyes at them. _Ridiculous_, she thought.

"Why is it, _exactly_, you're both hiding from these people?" she asked in a slightly patronizing tone.

"I suppose," Lucius began as he took a seat in a very old looking chair, "You've never had family you simply detest?"

"As a matter of fact I _have_," she replied, sitting on the sofa across from him, "and I stopped hiding from _her_ when I was _sixteen_."

Lucius shuddered slightly, "Well, I simply can't _stand_ my cousin, not at _all_."

"The whole _lot_ of them should go back where they came from," Draco added, sinking onto the couch beside Hermione with his arms crossed like a petulant child.

"Would you _please_ enlighten me?" she asked, getting tired of the run around she'd been getting.

Draco looked at his father, who looked back at his son.

"Where to begin?" the son asked.

They sat in silence, brooding for several moments.

"_Nero_," they said in unison.

Hermione rolled her eyes at their dramatics. "Yes, _yes_, carry on, _please_."

Draco eyed his father for a moment, expecting him to speak, but when the man said nothing, he sighed and began to talk.

"Nero Malfoy was my great grandfather. He was the great grandson of Tiberius Malfoy and…" he paused and looked at his father.

Lucius frowned at him and they sat in silence for several long moments before Lucius waved him on with a flick of his fingers.

"And Eleanor Constantine."

Hermione narrowed her eyes at him thoughtfully. "A Muggle?"

"Muggleborn," Draco corrected.

"A _Muggleborn_ witch?" she asked in shock.

"Yes."

"But that would mean…"

"Yes."

She absorbed that information for a moment before nodding for him to continue.

"Tiberius was the creator of that necklace, he made it for Eleanor."

"_Oh_!" Hermione gasped. "She killed herself!"

The pieces slipped into place as she remembered Narcissa telling her the vague history of the necklace.

"Yes, she did. But not before she gave Tiberius a son. Romulus-"

"A half-blood…" Hermione interjected.

"Yes, a half-blood, he was three when she fell. You and she are the only witches to have worn that necklace."

Hermione could only look at him slightly agape. This was shocking news to her. The Malfoys had Muggleborn heritage. So much for all the Pureblood nonsense. Her anger flared briefly.

"So why all the Mudblood talk then?" she asked as that short flame consumed her.

Draco looked away and sighed. "It's always been a very… the family has always tried to keep the blood pure. Occasionally, someone strays. But it's not very often. Many generations pass between the happenings. Tiberius was… _obsessed_ with the girl. She was quite beautiful and very powerful. She lived among one of the villages he lorded over. He spirited her away in the middle of the night one night. Her family never heard of her after that. She had completely vanished.

He brought her here, locked her away to keep as a trophy of sorts. She was highly sought after for her beauty, even the Muggle prince had taken an interest in her. But Tiberius wanted her and he made sure he had her. She didn't love him though. And she couldn't bear living alone in this house with a man she hated. She killed herself, threw herself from the roof. Her son was in the care of the house-elves when Tiberius returned. He was… heartbroken to find her dead."

"That's _sick_!" Hermione said, thoroughly engrossed in the story, "He didn't _really_ love her. Obsession and love are _not_ the same thing. He may as well have pushed her himself."

"Anyway," Draco continued, "In the wizarding world, no one knew who Tiberius had taken for his wife. They didn't know she was Muggleborn. He announced his wife had died of an illness, leaving him a grieving widower raising a small boy. It was very good publicity for him."

Hermione snorted at the arrogance of such a man, using her death to his benefit when he supposedly 'loved' her so much.

"So… everyone believed, as ever, the Malfoy heir was as pure as his sire. Tiberius made sure his son was instilled with the Pureblood beliefs and was married to a respectable Pureblood girl. Their son also married a Pureblood heiress. Then Nero came along. He was a black sheep, you could say. He publicly dirtied the Malfoy name in many, many ways. Well…" Draco backpedaled quickly, "_They_ thought he dirtied it, anyway."

"_Right_," Hermione said sarcastically.

"Nero attended Hogwarts, but he was no Slytherin."

"Just like that _Sirius Black_," Lucius said darkly.

Hermione turned her eyes angrily to the elder man. "What _of_ Sirius?"

Lucius quirked a brow at her, challenging her into the argument.

"Like _Sirius_," Draco continued, ignoring the glares the two shot back and forth, "Nero was placed in Gryffindor."

Hermione's mouth fell open and her eyes widened. "_Lies_!"

Draco smirked at her, "No."

She gaped at him for several more moments, trying to comprehend everything she was learning.

"While he attended Hogwarts, in Gryffindor, he began secretly courting a Muggleborn from Ravenclaw. What was it?" he asked pensively towards his father as he furrowed his brow and thought. "Fourth or fifth?"

"Fourth," Lucius supplied in answer.

"Yes, from his Fourth year on they were very much in love, supposedly. Nearing the end of their Seventh year, Maximus found out about their affair. We don't know how," he said as she opened her mouth to query.

"But it _wasn't_ pretty. He warned Nero to break it off and stay away from her. He wouldn't. Maximus resorted to threats, very _harsh_ threats. Still Nero wouldn't stop seeing her. He'd disappear for several days, only coming home after many, _many_ distraught letters from his mother. A year after they graduated, Nero brought her home, here, and announced to his parents they were going to be married and he didn't care what they thought of it. Maximus was enraged… he…"

Draco paused and pinched his brows as he looked up at Hermione, knowing she'd not like what came next.

"He killed her."

"_No_," she whispered, wide-eyed.

Draco nodded solemnly. "Yes, in the foyer. In front of his wife and Nero and several house-elves. He tortured his son for weeks, keeping him in the dungeons. With Nero chained to the wall, Maximus left the girl's body in the cell with him, under a stasis spell, for the duration. When he finally released his son, he told him to get rid of the body. Several months later, utterly defeated and broken, Nero married a Pureblood girl from France; his father arranged it for him. He was never the same though."

Hermione had teared up. This was far more dramatic than any romance novel she had ever read.

"Well, from the sounds of it, Muggleborns don't fare so well in your family," Hermione said softly, wondering what fate she'd be facing in joining the Malfoys.

Draco ignored her and carried on, "A year and a half after their marriage, his wife gave birth to twin boys."

Hermione gazed at him curiously. "But that's so _rare_ in Purebloods…"

"Indeed. Two days after the birth of his sons, Nero disappeared. He was never seen or heard from again. We've come to believe he killed himself of a broken heart. No location spells could ever find him, though his father tried. The boys, Abraxas and Hyperion, were raised by their mother here and Maximus acted as a father to them.

They attended Hogwarts, both in Slytherin. Upon graduation, Abraxas inherited everything, as is common in the rare instances of twins or multiple children. Hyperion, having always felt the lesser of the two brothers, left England. He went to New York to make his own life, away from the shadow of his family and now very, very powerful brother. He could have had a fine life here but he would have always been eclipsed by Abraxas. In New York, he changed his name from Malfoy to Malloy.

He built businesses from the ground up, practically creating the Wizarding Underground in New York, which had been virtually non-existent. He became as wealthy, if not more so, as Abraxas. But the two brothers very rarely spoke and even rarer, visited."

"How sad for him," Hermione said quietly.

"_Hardly_, over the years of their life, their correspondences became more heated and aggressive. They began to compete fiercely with one another. Hyperion bought out several of Abraxas' shops here in Diagon Alley, simply to spite him. Abraxas, in turn, sabotaged a handful or his brother's investments. Their little war carried on."

"But he's so _charming_!"

"His _portrait_ is, and he had a way with women, always saying what they wanted to hear."

"But all his philanthropy. The charity work…"

"I'll _have you know_, I have donated _thousands_ of galleons to charities as well," Lucius interjected.

"_Yes_, but I clearly think that _any_ good you've done has been overshadowed by…"

"Carrying on," Draco cut her off, effectively stopping another spat between the two. "Abraxas, obviously, married Cedrella, a Ravenclaw-"

"_Oh_!" Hermione gasped and looked at Lucius with wonder.

"And they had my father. Hyperion, on the other side of the pond, married a Bella Rothschild, from France. Her family was deeply rooted in both the Muggle and Wizarding world, and consequently was very, _very_ rich. They had Julius, my father's cousin."

Hermione remembered hearing Narcissa speaking to a Julius in the hall.

"My father met my mother in Hogwarts, they fancied each other, began courting, and eventually their families arranged the marriage. Julius met and married Danae, the daughter of an Italian immigrant wizard. They had my second cousin, Perseus."

"I see, so when did the war end?"

"It hasn't… exactly. As Abraxas and Hyperion aged, they became slightly more… amicable. Hyperion was at Abraxas' bed when he died of Dragonpox. It had been… sixty-five years since they had seen each other at that point. Hyperion promised his dying brother that their sons would not carry on the feud."

Draco glanced at his father, who sat glaring at dust particles floating about in the air.

"They… have a _rivalry_, you could say, but not an all out war."

"And you're avoiding them _because_…?"

"_Right_… a series of things really…"

"Such _as_…"

"Well, you see, this one time, we were… ah… out playing Quidditch and some things might have been said, you know, bets made and such, we might have… ahem… not fared as well as we'd have liked," Draco finally explained.

"This is about your _egos_?" Hermione asked in disbelief.

"Well… not _exactly_…"

Hermione rose from the couch and walked to the door, only to find that yet again it wouldn't respond to her touch.

"_Narcissa_!!" she yelled as she began banging on the door.

"You _silly_ girl," Lucius drawled smugly. "Have you forgotten the silencing spell you cast?"

Hermione stopped and sighed.

But she didn't have to wait long for a change of events. Just as she had crossed the room to the windows overlooking the courtyard, the door swung open and both men groaned.

"Father! I've found them!" the same deep voice she had heard earlier rang out.

Several footfalls were heard approaching the room in the hall.

"Darry, Uncle Lu," the young man said.

Draco scowled at the other man and said with acidic venom, "Perry."

Hermione watched the exchange with interest. But upon hearing the names they called one another she could not contain the snort of laughter that escaped her. _Darry and Perry? Uncle Lu? How absurd!_

"And who," Perry said, swaggering across the room, "Is this _goddess_?"

Hermione blushed at the unwanted attention.

"Hermione Granger," she said with a small smile.

The man lifted her hand and kissed the back of it all the while giving her a very charming smile.

"Perseus, pleased to meet you, _Miss Granger_," he said in a velvety voice that she knew would have made Lavender Brown a puddle of blonde mush.

"Soon to be, Mrs. Malfoy," Draco added darkly.

Perseus, with his back to Draco, quirked a brow at her and grinned, "We'll see," he whispered.

Hermione's eyes widened and looked from him to Draco, who had not heard the whispered words and was crossing the room to them.

Perseus released her hand as he sensed the nearness of his cousin and turned to face him. The two young men looked at each other for a long moment before shaking hands. Only then did she notice how completely opposite the two boys were. Draco, all pale and gold was the white Yang to Perseus' dark Yin, with his nearly black hair and olive skin.

"How have you been, Draco?" Perseus asked in that entirely too sensual voice.

"_Better_," Draco quipped.

Perseus grinned at Draco before he turned back to Hermione and extended his arm, "My mother is just _dying_ to meet little Draco's fiancé. Shall we?"

Hermione's eyes darted between this stranger and Draco, the more comfortable choice of the two. But for fear of being rude, she took the proffered arm and allowed him to direct her from the room, and from a clearly jealous young Malfoy.

* * *

**_So! I finished this chapter in one sitting. It really helps knowing exactly what you want to happen. :) I hope you all enjoyed it. I'll be very busy on Chapter 21, maybe, just maybe, it will also be up sometime this week. If I get really ambitious over the next couple of days._**

And just for clarity and imagery, I imagine Perseus to be very, very much like Chuck Bass off Gossip Girl. Maybe that will help you see his character a little better. :)

Thank you for reading, and thank you to everyone who takes the time to review, I really appreciate them!


	21. Chapter 21: Of Men and Mud

Chapter 21

Hermione had spent the rest of the evening and night laying low. Over the course of the following morning the house began to bustle with the coming of even more friends of the Malfoy's. Most of the arrivals she knew or had met at the engagement party.

Her stomach was in a permanent state of knots as she absorbed the fact that all of these people, Slytherins mostly, had gathered to watch her marry a man, that by all rights, she should _not_ be marrying. The gathering of Draco's family and friends made the impending marriage that much realer to her. She dreaded it. She did everything she could to forget about the quickly approaching event. But no matter how hard she tried, every corner, every room, every path had something that reminded her of her quickly approaching fate.

Never before in her life had she felt so nervous about something. She lost her breakfast a short hour after she had it. She had avoided most of the newcomers for the better part of the morning but by mid-day, her luck ran out.

Perseus was proving to be something of a nuisance, always present wherever she thought she might escape him. She had not a moment's peace for his constant prodding. He wanted to know _all_ about her.

"_So_," he said, breaking the silence she had only briefly found in the library, "you and Draco?"

She sighed. She knew sooner or later he'd approach this subject.

"Yes," she said shortly, as she tried to regain her place in her book.

"How, exactly, did that come about?" he asked.

She slapped the book closed and shot him a glare. She hesitated a moment thinking of a way to explain it without revealing her ulterior motives.

"We have an … _arrangement_," she finally said.

He studied her face with his dark eyes and grinned at her. "An arranged marriage?"

She nodded but offered no further explanation.

"And how long have you known Draco?"

She rubbed her eyes before succumbing to the inevitable questioning. "Oh dear, let me think." After several moments she finally spoke again. "I guess about twelve years now."

"Mmm," he replied as he crossed an ankle over his knee and steepled his fingers. "You went to that Hog school with him then?"

"Yes, Hogwarts."

He snorted softly.

"What?" she asked.

"It's an odd name."

"Well what was the name of _your_ school?"

"I didn't attend any school. I had private tutors."

"Of _course_," Hermione said and rolled her eyes.

"So, you and Draco fell madly in love at this school?"

"_Hardly_." She couldn't suppress the laughter that escaped her. "We hated each other _very_ much."

"Did he pick on you?" Perseus questioned.

"Well… he was quite cruel at times. He disliked my friends and my heritage."

"Your heritage?" He furrowed his brows before speaking again, "_Oh_… I see… you're a _Muggleborn_."

"Yes," Hermione answered and awaited a slur of obscenities to flow from his lips.

"Well, that makes things _very_ interesting," he said with a crooked smile. She gaped at him for a moment in shock. "So he picked on you and was mean to you."

"Yes." She stretched out on the couch she had been sitting on and made herself more comfortable.

"He liked you," he said softly.

Hermione burst into a fit of giggles.

"Oh, _yes_, I'm _sure_ he did!" She said between giggles.

"I'm serious," Perseus added quietly.

Her laughter stilled and her brow creased. "No, he's hated me for years."

"Maybe that's what he _wanted_ you to think."

"Don't be _ridiculous_."

"You're a likable witch, why wouldn't he?" He sat up and rested his elbows on his knees, leaning closer to her.

Hermione looked at him with an almost fearful look on her face, trying to think of a proper argument. He couldn't possibly be right. Her mother had always told her when she was little about boys pulling pigtails. But he simply _couldn't_ be right. If he were right, it might shatter her preconceptions about the boy she once knew.

This was how Draco found them. He stepped into the sitting area and glared at the both of them.

"Cousin!" Perseus greeted him good-naturedly.

"_Perry_," Draco answered in almost the same disdainful voice he saved for Harry. "I've been thinking. I believe it's time for a rematch."

A slow smile crossed Perseus' lips. "Are you sure about that, Draco?"

"Yes," Draco said as he shoved his hands into his trouser pockets. "I'll gather the others, be on the pitch in half."

"Right-o, guv-nah," Perseus said in his best British as he rose from his chair.

Draco narrowed his eyes at the other man before turning and briskly exiting the room.

Perseus looked over his shoulder and gave Hermione a winning smirk before following after Draco to prepare.

* * *

And so, Hermione found herself standing on the sidelines of the Malfoy's Quidditch pitch, in a borrowed pair of grey wool slacks, a cream cashmere sweater, and a violently red scarf wrapped around her neck.

She stood next to Narcissa and Millicent, who had only arrived with Goyle moments earlier.

Narcissa sighed heavily as half of the two assembled teams began rising into the air. The two Keepers (Lucius and Julius) and the two Seekers (Draco and Perseus) stood in the center of the field. They clutched their expensive looking black brooms as they discussed something with serious looks on their faces.

"This won't end well…" Millicent muttered.

"It _never_ does," Narcissa responded as she pulled her silk shawl tighter around her shoulders.

Hermione watched nervously as the four men approached them.

"Oi!" Blaise yelled from the air above, cloaked in the black and silver robes his team had chosen. "Hurry it up, would you? Looks like a storm's coming in!"

Draco waived a hand at him noncommittally without looking up. Blaise shot off down the pitch towards the hoops at the far end.

"Draco," Narcissa said, once her son was close enough, "behave yourself."

She reached up and tightened the leather fastenings around his neck and shoulders. She turned her attention to Perseus, who had followed, and checked the black robes he wore as well.

"Perseus," she shook her head at him, remembering the quarrels of the past. "Be _good_."

"Always, Aunt Cissa," he said with his charming smile.

Narcissa moved away from the boys and Hermione to where her husband stood. She began muttering angrily at him, but Hermione couldn't make out what she said.

Perseus stepped into her line of sight, blocking the two elder Malfoys from her vision.

"A kiss for luck?" he asked mischievously and she noted his eyes darting up to catch Draco's response.

She snorted at him and shook her head.

He grinned, knowing she already was on to his game even if his cousin was daft to it, "A favour then?"

"Will you go away?" she asked.

"If it's what you wish."

"Fine," she unwound the red scarf from her neck and tossed it at him. She said with a friendly smile, "Now _go_."

He smirked and tied the scarf around his broom before he kicked off and flashed into the air above them, the tails of the scarlet fabric whipped fiercely around his legs. There he hovered carefully watching Draco approach the young witch.

Hermione looked up at him when he stood before her. His green robes flicked about in the strong wind that had started blowing.

He looked up at Perseus, who was still smirking, and spat, "He's a _pest_."

Hermione couldn't help the grin that spread across her lips at his evident jealousy. She stood on her tiptoes and kissed his cheek, surprising him in the process.

"Good luck, Draco," she said before stepping away from him to stand by his mother.

He pushed off the ground and joined his team in the cloud-darkened sky.

Millicent stood in the center of the pitch and carefully reached down to a shining black box. She unlatched the lid and jumped clear as all the balls burst free of their cage. The Snitch exited last and vanished into the stormy sky.

Millicent hurried to join the other ladies at the side of the pitch, reaching them only just as it started raining.

"Oh _lovely_," Narcissa murmured. She withdrew her wand and flicked it.

In moments, a large green canopy came floating from the nearby building, the one Hermione suspected Draco had Apparated her to to fetch his broom. The tent was followed by three chairs, they approached dutifully in a line before the tent erected it's self and the chairs followed suit.

The women took their seats and set in to watch what was sure to be an interesting game.

* * *

Hermione didn't know how long she had been watching the green and black shapes darting across the sky. Ten minutes? Fifteen? An hour? Longer?

She was only sure of the terror unfolding before her. It all progressed in frighteningly slow motion.

She watched Zabini sling his arm back and make contact with a Bludger. It went soaring through the sky, its aim true on its intended target, who never saw it coming.

"_No_," she whispered, rising from her seat with wide eyes.

The ball soared straight for the blonde haired young man it was meant to hit. Lightening struck nearby, fully illuminating the pitch and the rain pounded down. The sodden ground splattered loudly with every drop.

She withdrew her wand and took off at a dead sprint across the field, long before the Bludger ever made contact.

"_Draco_!" Narcissa yelled but was barely heard over the din of the storm.

* * *

Across the field, high above the ground at the goal posts, Lucius also watched the flight of the crazed ball with wide eyes.

"No!" he hissed angrily.

The ball made its contact, hitting Draco squarely in the chest, effectively dismounting him from his broom. He began a long freefall.

"_No_," Lucius whispered, and extended his right hand, wordlessly casting a spell and willing it to reach.

* * *

Hermione shrieked as she saw the ball hit him. The lightening cracked again, lighting the sky and she saw him falling to the earth. She ran faster.

She stopped and pointed her wand at him only seconds before he would have touched the soaked grass. Between her cushioning charm and Lucius' wandless attempt to slow his son's fall, Draco hit the ground with a light thud.

She immediately kneeled over him and began casting spells. His father landed next to her within seconds.

He was followed by the rest of the players.

Blaise began immediately apologizing, mumbling incoherently about how it was an accident.

"_Shut it_, Zabini," Lucius growled.

Hermione ignored the bickering that was beginning around her amongst the gathered men. She surmised the only injuries he'd attained were from the actual Bludger hit and that was most likely a fractured rib.

She heard scuffling around her and the slipping and thudding of bodies hitting the water-soaked ground.

"Draco," she called to him as his eyelids started to flutter open.

"_What the fuck_," he whispered painfully.

"Are you alright? Do you hurt?" she asked quickly, having to raise her voice over the raucous shouts of the wrestling mass of men behind her.

He tried to sit up and groaned loudly.

"_Lucius_! _No_!" Narcissa screeched in the distance. More scuffling and thudding could be heard along with the unmistakable sound of flesh meeting flesh and bone meeting bone. More cursing and yelling followed. The Malfoy matriarch continued trying to curtail the foray, "Stop this! _Lucius_! Julius _do_ something!"

"Be still," Hermione told him. She leaned over him and began unhooking the leather straps that held the protective Quidditch gear on.

"_Here_, Granger?" Draco asked with a naughty smirk.

She stopped and looked at him. Her eyes flashed angrily. "Don't get cheeky."

She peeled back the leather and the silken, green robes to reveal his milky white torso. The rain began drizzling down his chest. She immediately saw the large purple bruise forming over the injured ribs. She reached out a hand and gently touched the spot.

He hissed loudly, "_Shite_, woman!"

"What?" she asked, withdrawing her hand quickly.

"Your hands are bloody well _freezing_!" he yelled at her.

She rolled her eyes and went back to prodding his chest. She hovered her wand over the broken bones and began softly muttering the necessary spells. Orange light glowed from the end of her wand and the bruise began to slowly fade.

The fighting on the field seemed to have progressed in the short time since she had last subconsciously noted it. The yelling was more primal than it had been; it had become a series of grunts and yells, groans and war-cries. Several women had joined Narcissa and shrieked obscenities and threats at their stubborn husbands.

"Better?" Hermione asked Draco as he watched the happenings behind her with a look of shock and disbelief.

"Is _that_ my father?" he asked.

Hermione looked over her shoulder.

"_Oh my_," she whispered.

She stood fully and faced the tumult. Ten grown men wrestling in mud and throwing fists and insults at one another was truly not something she expected to see that day.

"What on _Earth_," she whispered as she watched. Peripherally, she saw Draco rising to stand beside her and fasten his robes over his healed chest.

Hermione and Draco stood gaping as what once-upon-a-time would have been Lucius Malfoy separated himself from the writhing mass and took two steps towards them. He looked like something from a 50s horror film, the Swamp Thing came to mind immediately. He closely resembled a freshly unearthed Inferi. His white hair was completely brown and matted with mud and grass, his face was hidden beneath the muck. Only the length of his hair and the crisp silvery blue of his eyes identified him.

The duo stood watching as Draco's father took another step towards them and reached out a hand.

"Draco, you're alright," he said.

Before either could reply or he could inquiry further he let out a strained 'hurrumpff' as a large mass bodily tackled him to the ground.

"_Good heavens_," Hermione said softly and placed a hand over heart.

She looked to Draco who was grinning at the fight. He faced her when he noticed her look at him. His grin widened and he purposefully lowered his gaze.

Hermione blushed carmine. She followed his gaze to her now opaque, white sweater. She immediately crossed her arms over her chest and looked at him in shock.

He looked away while trying in vain not to beam mirthfully.

"_Barbarians_, the lot of you," she said angrily before stomping off through the rain to where Narcissa stood covering her mouth and watching the atrocities unfolding before her.

She was shaking her head at the juvenile behavior when Hermione reached her.

"Have you _ever_ seen such?" Hermione demanded.

Narcissa's eyes widened at something Hermione wasn't watching.

"It's best if we go _now_," Narcissa said and grasped Hermione's arm before popping them back into the house. "I'd advise you to _run_and_hide_."

Hermione watched with wide eyes as the woman began scuttling down the hall and darted into a dark room. She narrowed her eyes as the door remained cracked open and blue eyes observed the hall.

Hermione shook her head at such odd behavior and turned to go to her rooms. She stopped dead.

Several puffs of black smoke materialized before her and joined the already waiting two that stood watching her.

Draco, no longer simply wet, bared a feral grin at her and held out his mud-dripping arms.

She grimaced in horror and heard Narcissa's door slam shut and the lock click.

"_No_," she said in her strongest voice, abandoning any hope of modesty as she brandished her wand at him. "_Stay away_."

She began backing down the corridor away from the muddy men stalking her.

"Go torment someone else," she said before flicking her wand at one of them, Rodolphus from the sound of it, and making him trip over his jelly-legs.

She continued backing up and found herself passing Narcissa's door. "_Narcissa_!"

"Sorry, dear," she heard muffled from behind the door. "You're on your own!"

One of the dripping figures stopped at the door and immediately began whispering to it. Lucius, Hermione surmised when the wood swung open at his will and Narcissa shrieked.

"_No_! This is _French silk_, get away, you _filthy beast_!"

Hermione blanched. She really hated mud. She could handle dirt on its own when it was dry. She could handle being sopping wet from rain. But she _really_ hated mud. It smelled horrible and mucked everything up before it dried and cracked.

"_Bugger off_," Hermione growled. "Don't make me hurt you."

One of the creatures chuckled.

"_I'm warning you_," she repeated.

Draco lunged at her and she dodged, giving him a good push on the way so he landed on his stomach on the floor and cursed at her. He slipped about and had a hard time of getting up to attempt to catch her again.

She continued slowly backing away, not once trusting them enough to turn her back and run.

Lurkin popped into the hall and shrieked loudly. "My floorses! _Oh dear_, oh no! So _dirty_!" He fell to his hands and knees and began scrubbing the mud away in the wake of Hermione's pursuers.

Hermione flicked her wand at another approaching brown figure and he froze solid before falling over onto the floor.

"Sorry," she added at the blinking plank of a person, "I _did_ warn you."

"_Oh_!" Narcissa screeched down the hall, "What have you _done_, _Lucius_!"

Red light flashed and Lucius tumbled out into the hall. He began quickly searching his Quidditch suit for his wand whilst rolling aside of another red blast. He laughed loudly when a priceless vase toppled over and shattered.

"Funny _is it_?" Narcissa demanded as she stomped into the hall. Her light blue dress robes were mottled black and blue from the mud her husband had transplanted there.

She slashed her wand and Lucius rolled again avoiding another blast, all the while continuing to laugh and draw more of her wrath.

The pack was distracted by one of their own being attacked behind them. Hermione struck again. Ropes appeared and lashed one of the figures to an eight foot tall statue of some wizard or other.

"Oi!" he bellowed. The others turned back to face Hermione.

"This is _absurd_!" Hermione said, "_Aguamenti_!"

A jet of water burst forth from her wand and she thoroughly doused all the pursuers in the hall, save Lucius, who had managed to escape further down the corridor from Narcissa. The mud and grime washed away from them revealing Theo, Rabastan, Rodolphus, and Draco.

"Well, where are the rest of you?" Hermione asked with a grin.

"You _minx_!" Draco spat at her through his smirk.

Just as she was about to yell her triumph to Narcissa, two large arms wrapped around her. Her face contorted in shock and disgust, quickly followed by pure, unfettered anger.

"Here, Draco, hold her a moment," Perseus said from behind her.

Draco stepped forward and wrapped her in a bear hug against his chest.

"Release me!" she shrieked against him. "_Let me go_!"

She resorted to animalistic instincts and bit his breast.

"Ahh!" Draco yelled, but held her fast. "_No biting_, wench!"

"Alright, pass her back," Perseus said.

Draco shoved her away from him and began massaging his assaulted chest as he glared at her. Hermione felt herself wrapped in cloth and the overwhelming funk she detested surrounded her. It permeated her hair, her clothes; it mashed against her skin.

Draco watched the manic emotions that flittered across her pretty face. He noted the crazed twitch her left eye adopted.

"Ugh… I think we better…" he motioned over his arm before adding, "_run_!"

The two relatives took off down the hall in a sprint, leaving their friends to her mercy.

Hermione cast off the mud-soaked cloak.

"_MALFOY_!" she bellowed.

She raised her wand and began shooting off random spells at any who tried deterring her from her course. She'd scour high and low until she found the both of them. And they'd pay.

Merlin, would they.

* * *

**_AN: Where here's Chapter 21. I hope you all enjoy it. Thank you all so very, very much for the reviews. I really love reading them! I wish I could respond to you all individually and thank you personally. But just know that it is truly appreciated. _**

**_Check back soon for Chapter 22, I'll be busy on it this week, maybe by the weekend it will be posted as well. :) Until then..._**


	22. Chapter 22: Parties and Prophecies

Chapter 22

Draco sighed. He raised his hand to knock again when a voice interrupted him.

"Still not speaking to you?"

Draco turned to face his grinning cousin.

"No. She isn't. It's _your_ fault you know."

"Oh please, cousin. You are _every_ bit as guilty." He reached up casually and rapped on the door twice. "Miss Granger."

The door flung open so swiftly that the passing air fluttered the two men's hair.

"What do you _want_!" she demanded, having heard their conversation and been ignoring Draco's insistent knocking for the last hour.

"Well I was hoping you would…"

"Shut it!" She interrupted him as she directed her full attention to Draco.

"Well for _starters_," he said once he realized he was the target of her angry shout, "You could remove this hex! My arse has been stinging all night and morning, woman!"

"_Sod off_, Malfoy," she said.

She started to slam the door shut again but a strong hand blocked it.

"As I was saying," Perseus said. He gave her what he thought was a very charming smile, "Would you accompany me for a walk?"

"_No_! Go. Away." She said to both of the men. She pushed forcefully on the door and managed to get it shut and locked.

Draco turned his angry gaze to his cousin and winced as another wave of the stinging hex hit him. "What are you playing at, Perseus?"

"Whatever do you mean, Draco?" Perseus said and spun on his heel.

Draco fell in step beside him as they left the young woman's door. "Just stay away from her, Perry."

Perseus stopped and eyed Draco curiously for a moment. He finally broke the silence and nodded, "As you wish."

* * *

_Bothersome, irritating, worthless, loathsome_. Hermione growled aloud as she opened her bedroom door and checked the hall.

The boys were gone. She had hoped they would be. She had waited an hour after last seeing them before finally emerging from her room.

She was hungry and bored.

And she didn't feel the slightest bit guilty about Draco's bum. It would wear off soon, the big baby. It didn't even have a twenty-four-hour duration, for Merlin's sake!

The closer she got to the ground floor, the more she was able to hear multiple conversations, laughter, scurrying about. A dissonance of sounds that signified one thing: there were more guests, lots of them.

Hermione frowned and dodged into a shadowed doorway as two strange men strolled down the hall and passed her.

Random guests for her _wedding_. She sighed, blowing a stray curl away from her lip. Her wedding was only two days away now.

_Tempus fugit._

Boy did it.

Time flew like a jet plane and left a sonic boom in its wake.

Well… there was one benefit to this… she could do some snooping and eavesdropping. It was a pity she couldn't nick Harry's invisibility cloak. It would be so _very_ useful. She offhandedly wondered where Draco and Perseus and disappeared to. She frowned again and wondered what Perseus knew of Draco's secretive plans.

She made her way downstairs and quietly passed the dining room, which was full of people she did not recognize. Well, she _did_ see Rabastan in the group, laughing merrily and looking easily twenty years younger.

_Amazing_, she thought to herself after seeing his beaming face. _He would have been a fairly good looking chap, if he hadn't been one of the Devil's consorts_.

She reached the large kitchens, a place she had only visited twice before. A dozen little elves scurried about preparing teas, scones, biscuits, dinner; a perfume of delicious smells assaulted her nose. She inhaled deeply and felt her stomach clench on itself in hunger.

"What can we's do for you, Mistress?" one of the elves asked.

"Oh… I…" Hermione paused. She was so conflicted about the small creatures. Did she ask them for her food? Did she demand to prepare it herself and get in their way when they were so clearly busy? She sighed and answered, "I'd like a sandwich please."

The elf grinned, a large, toothless grin, and snapped his fingers. A small plate with a sandwich appeared on it. He handed it to her.

"Thanks," she said softly and backed out of the door, not wanting to distract the poor fellow from his work.

She wandered away from the kitchen and dining room, down a corridor she had only ventured down once before: the wing directly below her and Draco's rooms. The windows were heavily draped and the fabric only barely allowed thin streams of light to pierce the darkness of the hall. Dust particles floated in the air and it was obvious the corridor was rarely traversed. Doorknobs did not gleam, so coated in dust were they. It was peaceful. It was silent.

Hermione stopped at one of the windows that exposed more of the garden than the others. She placed her empty plate on the small table in front of her as she watched two men walking amongst the tall rose bushes.

Draco and Perseus were deep in discussion over something. This was apparent from Draco's knitted brows and the intensity with which Perseus focused on his cousin's words. They stopped and Draco waved at someone across the courtyard. They started walking again and she realized then, they were walking towards her hall! Her eyes widened and she looked frantically for somewhere to hide. She needed to hide; she wanted to know what they were discussing. She _had_ to know. She spun around. There! A door wasn't completely closed like the others were. She dashed across the hall and snuck into the dark room.

She froze and held her breath as she listened. The courtyard door that had been only feet from her window opened and she heard them enter the hall.

"Yes, just in there, the others will join us shortly," Draco said as he latched the garden door shut.

Her heart pounded and she heard footsteps approaching her room.

_Shit!_ She thought.

She could barely see in the darkness.

_Shit!_ She cursed her luck again.

She made out the shape of a door and hurried to it, flinging it open and disappearing soundlessly inside it just as the main door opened. Light glowed brightly under her door and she glanced around.

_A closet?_ She looked closer.

There were maybe three feet between the counter and the door. The counter had a marble top and shelves that reached all the way to the ceiling.

_Bugger. A wet bar. __**So**__ not good._

She froze again when she heard the door to the room shut.

"Is he here?" she heard Perseus ask.

"Yes, he arrived early this morning. _Fuck_." Draco sighed dramatically. "Do you want a drink?" She heard him shuffling around the room.

"I suppose."

_Bugger it all to hell and back on hippogriffs!_

Cabinets under the bar. She whipped them open and didn't think twice before crawling into the fairly deep space. She was grateful that all the cabinet held were two old, dusty casks of wine. She fit in the cabinet nicely with a little space to spare. She settled herself in the dark cubby and froze none too soon. The closet door swung open, blasting the dark room in light. An overhead light turned on and she could see through the cabinet cracks a pair of dark slacks.

She knew she shouldn't be there, it was far too dangerous. But knowing she was staring at Draco's silk trousers gave her some sense of peace. She didn't feel quite so bad about it. What was the worst that could happen to her anyway? And thus far, she had been a terrible spy. She hadn't learned _anything_!

She heard the glasses clink on the counter top and Draco whispered a spell. She heard ice plunked into the glass and crackle as warm liquid was poured over it. A heavy bottle was set loudly on the marbled top above her head and she flinched.

Draco's legs walked away from her, back into the room, and thankfully for her he left the closet door open and the lights on. She could see most of the room through the cabinet door cracks.

"I was quite surprised to hear you were engaged and marrying so soon, especially after the last…" Perseus said as Draco handed him a glass.

Draco shrugged and took a seat as well.

"I was even more shocked to learn you were marrying a _Mudblood_," Perseus' tone was accusatory.

_Ah, finally_, Hermione thought. She had figured all along Mr. Perseus Malloy was far too nice to be real.

Draco sighed. "It couldn't be helped. She's necessary…. It's all part of the-"

"The plan?" Perseus cut him off and Draco nodded.

"_What plan_?" Hermione whispered to herself. She instantly slapped a hand over her mouth. _Stupid, stupid, __**stupid**__!!_ She scolded herself.

They hadn't noticed her outburst.

"How much of the plan does she know?" Perseus asked.

"None. That I know of. But she is resourceful… I wouldn't doubt if she's found _something_ out by now," Draco muttered and Hermione felt her cheeks flush… did they know she was listening?

Perseus raised his brows, "_I_know more than her?"

Draco nodded.

"Well… that _is_ interesting."

"How much more do you want to know, Perry?" Draco asked.

The two men sat in long silence. Perseus raised his glass to his lips and took a sip. He finally spoke, "Everything."

Draco nodded. "I assume you'll be staying in town after the wedding then?"

"If it's necessary."

"If you are wanting a part in this, it is. But I'll let him discuss it all with you."

"Speaking of the Devil, I saw his sister in New York last month. "

"You _saw_ her?" Draco seemed very interested in this information.

"Yes, gorgeous woman. A spoiled bitch, but gorgeous."

"Well, she must have got all the looks in the family."

"Mmm," Perseus took another drink. "You have no idea. Fantastic legs and the reddest hair you've ever seen."

Draco grimaced, "Sounds like a Weasely."

"No… I don't think you'd ever confuse _her_ for one of those _filthy_ traitors."

Hermione felt herself getting angrier the more she heard. She had been so incredibly stupid. Asteria had been right. They were all lying, using pretenders. She couldn't trust any of them. What had she been thinking, feeling something for Draco-sodding-Malfoy?

She heard the door of the room open again and several figures entered.

"Draco."

"Father."

"Perseus."

"Uncle."

"We were just discussing Veronica Wytte," Draco said as Lucius approached Hermione's hiding location. Her breathing picked up slightly and she feared so greatly being found out.

"Lovely bird, that one," she recognized Rodolphus' raspy voice as he too fully entered the room. He crossed and stood near Lucius, awaiting a drink.

Hermione felt herself trembling as the room became more crowded. How many others had joined them?

"She be at the weddin'?" Another masculine voice asked.

Who was that? Hermione wondered. That voice was… vaguely familiar.

"I'm sure that depends on whether or not her brother decides to bring her. I would not advise pursuing her, Yaxley," Lucius' deep voiced rumbled above her.

"What's the 'arm in chasin' a lit'el skirt, Malfoy? Don' be jealous you haven' the freedom anymore…" Yaxley replied viciously.

"It's your own head, Yaxley, do with it as you wish," Lucius answered as he finished pouring his and Rodolphus' drinks.

The men settled into their chairs for an hour's worth of raucous bantering and disgusting conversation. Hermione sneered to herself at the thought of Yaxley ever getting laid as much as claimed to. _Maybe in his dreams__, _she thought_._

"The dancers will be arriving soon, we should move this to my salon," Lucius said over the noisy, gruff laughter.

Chairs ground loudly on the wooden floors as the men stood and shifted about. The door creaked open and she heard the majority of the footsteps exit the room.

"Just do my one favor, Perry," she heard Draco whispering far off, possibly at the door.

"Yes."

"Watch her for me. She _is_ important and I can't risk any harm coming to her."

"Of course."

The room and hall grew silent.

Hermione lost track of the time she sat in the dark waiting for the coast to be clear. She finally crawled out of the cabinet and tumbled into the dark room. It stank of men and cigars.

She hesitantly opened the door to the hall and peeked out a tiny crack, holding her breath long enough to make sure no one was nosing about in the corridor. She opened it slowly trying to make as little noise as possible. Once she was in the hall and the door was shut behind her, she smoothed out her skirt and dusted the bunnies from her curly mane.

Somewhere in the manor she heard a clock chiming in nine o'clock and she froze.

She had completely forgotten about the hen party Narcissa and Ginny had been planning for her, they'd be so angry with her for disappearing. She took off down the hall at a dead run, not caring if anyone heard her anymore. She'd lie her way out of any corner if she needed to, there was a party she was late for.

* * *

She was late. Very, very late. She had to get washed up after her jaunt in the cupboard. She had the worst time with her hair and on top of that she had to find something to wear. It was nearly ten when she arrived at the ballroom.

The girls were all gathered and laughing. Ginny had decorated the place well and the room gave off a very spooky vibe. The lights were dimmed to barely glowing, cobwebs hung from every chandelier. Skeletal waiters served drinks and several family owls had been brought in to add to the eeriness.

"Hermione!" Ginny shrieked at her friend and rushed over to her.

"I'm so sorry, Gin," Hermione started and immediately began to apologize and tell a long, rambling tale about how she got lost and couldn't get out of a locked chest, and then along came a boggart.

"It doesn't matter," Ginny cut her off, "you're here now and everyone's been having a blast. Look! I hired a seer, she says she is anyway. We've all been getting readings done. It's great fun! She said I'm going to have a boy! Can you believe it?! I mean… how could she possibly have known? We haven't told anyone, except you and the rest of the Weasleys... and... well I suppose she could have heard from somewhere."

Hermione smiled and shook her head at her excitable friend.

"Let her read you, Hermione, maybe she'll tell you something _fantastic_!" Ginny began pulling her in the direction of the haggard old woman.

Parvati sat in front of the witch with her palm outstretch, beaming from ear to ear.

Girls were crowded around the witch and her subject.

"I dunno, Gin, there seems to be quite a line, I'll just wait," Hermione said and began to pull away.

"Nonsense! Bride-to-be coming through, move your arses!" Ginny bellowed to the gaggle of females. "Oi! To the kitchens! Cakes and biscuits are ready!"

"Oooh!" Several girls moaned and the group rushed for the doors.

"Bugger, didn't expect it to work, I'll be back," Ginny said with a grin.

Narcissa approached Hermione from the shadows. "They've been having a wonderful time, dear. You missed the best part though. Madame Vivienne told the Brown girl she'd be having triplets in the spring."

Hermione gaped and the Malfoy matriarch couldn't hold her giggles.

"Come dear, come and let me tell you what the stars hold," the old woman said from behind the two laughing women.

"Oh, I don't know, I'm alright, thank you," Hermione said.

"I insist. You shine brightly, dear, let me tell you," the old woman insisted.

"Oh… alright, I suppose." Hermione approached the elderly witch and knelt before her. She only noticed then that the woman was blind, her grey eyes looked unseeingly past Hermione.

"Yes, very beautiful," the woman muttered. "Your hand dear."

"Right," Hermione said, shaking herself from her stunned thoughts, and extended her right palm to the witch.

"Ahh… yes… I've seen you before…" she started, "a butterfly in a field of moths. Yes… there it is…"

The woman froze and grasped Hermione's hand tightly.

"Ow," she murmured as she watched the hag curiously.

When she spoke again her voice was much deeper and had taken on an inhuman tone. A breeze hissed to life and candles around the room went dark.

"The dragon falls and rises again, a new dark lord yet the same within," she wheezed and coughed, "The passing peace under the shadow looms, the birth of his son forewarns of our doom, followed by the daughter, the bearer of light, hide her from him, keep her out of sight."

Hermione yanked her hand from the woman and scooted backwards across the floor. The gooseflesh on her arms had risen to painful heights and her heart pounded in her chest. She glanced at Narcissa who was still frozen in shock.

"The dragon?" Narcissa whispered to the dark room.

"Do you think she means…" Hermione swallowed loudly.

"I… no…of course not, don't be silly," Narcissa began pacing and toying with the necklace at her breast.

"It can't be… that's ridiculous, you're right," Hermione stood and began biting her lip.

"Speak of this to no one," Narcissa said suddenly in a whisper, "We'll discuss it more in private."

Hermione only had time to nod vigorously before the hall's doors swung open and a hoard of laughing women came back in. No one noticed the two distraught women. Nor did anyone notice the absence of the seer.

* * *

_**AN: I apologize profusely, cookies for everyone! **_

_**I'm terribly sorry if this chapter isn't up to snuff. As you can see I haven't had on my writing hat for quite some time so I feel a little rusty around the edges. My job has me working some pretty insane hours and I've been too tired to clean, do laundry, much of anything really... writing was so far down the list it pretty much fell off the list completely. I can't make promises on when updates will come. I will do my best to make time on the weekends and try to get a chapter out every now and then. At least until summer is over, then work should slow down a bit. **_

_**Thank you so much to everyone who has reviewed, checked back repeatedly, and reread this story. I love you all so much! You're the best! 3**_


	23. Chapter 23: Of Visions and Vows

Chapter 23

Hermione paced back and forth, chewing at her lower lip. Silk, taffeta, and chiffon crinkled and rustled with every move she made. She reached up to fret with her curls.

"Stop!" Narcissa yelled at her from the lounge across the room.

Her hand immediately dropped and she realized what she had been about to do. She glanced in the mirror to make sure she hadn't ruined the hours of work that had gone into preparing her hair for the event. It was still twisted up neatly, with the curls showering over the crown of her head and falling back down over the twist. Sprigs of baby's breath adorned her hair and the small tiara sparkled in the golden candle glow.

She glanced away and began pacing again, swishing the layers of expensive white material all around her. Her heels clicked loudly on the marble floors.

"There are _no_ other dragons associated with 'dark lords', Narcissa," she finally said as she stopped and turned to face her soon-to-be mother.

"It _has_ to be a mistake. _Think_! There _has_ to be another explanation!" The elder woman said.

"The dragon shall fall and rise again. Isn't it _obvious_?" Hermione whispered harshly. "Draco, _the dragon_, fell from favor with his peers after his botched attempt to kill Dumbledore. The dragon fell. And rise again, he's going to find a way to regain favor with the pureblood community."

She paused and thought over the rest of the prophecy.

"A new dark lord but the same within." She frowned. "Well, he _would_ be a new dark lord if he rose to power somehow, and the same within? I assume that means they have the same goals: the eradication of Muggleborns, half-bloods, and blood traitors."

"That's _ridiculous_, he's hours away from marrying _you_," Narcissa said. "Why would he become involved in something that would so closely impact his own marriage?"

"Maybe he doesn't intend for me to be around that long?" Hermione said softly.

"But if it is a _true_ prophecy, you're going to give him a son _and_ a daughter… he must not get rid of you very quickly if that's to happen."

Hermione covered her face with her hands. She was trembling.

"How does he plan to do it? How can he put himself in a position, after everything your family has done? A position of power where he could… could… make those types of changes?"

Both women considered the thought.

"_Minister_," Hermione said and her heart skipped a beat. She couldn't stop the freefall plunge her stomach had taken.

"Of Magic?" Narcissa asked in confusion.

"Yes, he wants to be Minister. It's the _only_ way he'd be able to make such radical changes and enforce them."

"The Dark Lord attempted that already. It got him nowhere. Controlling the Ministry will do nothing for him."

"You're wrong," Hermione said as she turned to face the older woman. "It does _everything_. He will succeed where Voldemort failed. Tom Riddle thought he'd have power and control by _taking_ the Ministry by force. If Draco gains the favor of the Wizarding world and is _elected_ as Minister, he'll be able to do whatever he wants without starting a civil war."

"He'd never be elected…"

Hermione paled slightly and swallowed. After several long moments of silence, she spoke.

"I can't go through with this, Narcissa, I can't marry him. I see it now. I'm the crux of this entire plan."

"What do you mean, dear?"

"He'll win favor through _me_. Don't you see? If I marry Draco Malfoy, he _must not_ be evil; he must not be _that_ bad. The people will think I saw the good in him, that I changed him. And if we have a child together?" She reached up and covered her mouth, choking back a sob. She turned and looked out the window.

Dark rain clouds seemed to have materialized out of nowhere. It was fitting.

"Narcissa… If I tell you something… can I trust you? Will you take an oath not to betray me?" Hermione looked at her through teary eyes.

Narcissa looked dumbfounded at the young woman.

"I won't betray you, so long as I am not putting my husband and son in jeopardy."

Hermione nodded. "Perhaps it's best if I don't tell you."

Hermione looked up at the woman as another tear rolled down her porcelain cheek. "I thought I'd be doing good by coming here. I thought I could somehow help other people by leaving behind my old life. And it seems… I'm only going to cause harm through my sacrifice."

Narcissa knelt before the girl and pleaded, "Don't give up on him. There _is_ good in him. He's been taught to be this way his entire life. He couldn't kill Dumbledore, just as I know he can't kill thousands of innocents. Give him a chance; try to help him see the light. Don't fear him; help him be a better person as only you can."

Hermione glanced back out the window as a roll of thunder rattled the pane. She whispered, "I don't fear _him_, Narcissa; I fear what he may become."

A soft rap at the door caused both women to jump slightly. Narcissa stood and moved to the door, stopping it just as the handle began to turn.

Hermione turned and gazed out the window. Fat tears rolled down her cheeks, her reflection had its own real tears, large raindrops that trickled down almost mirror paths.

She watched the business far below her window. Several white tents were setup in the gardens. Fairy lights lit the walking paths and cast a soft glow. She could see guests piling into one of the tents and felt a fresh wave a tears creeping up on her.

She touched the cool glass with her palm and rested her forehead against the pane.

Whatever had she been thinking when she agreed to this?

Vaguely, she heard the door click shut and footsteps approach her.

"Hermione, love," a voice behind her spoke softly.

She whirled around and flung herself into his arms.

"Oh, Harry!"

"Shh, easy there, what's the matter?" he asked in soothing tones.

"Harry, I can't go through with it. I _can't_."

She told him of the prophecy and explained her theory to him. All the while, he watched her pensively.

When she finished, he spoke, "I brought you this."

He reached into his pocket and withdrew a dark vial.

Understanding and relief flooded her face. She took it and swallowed it in one gulp.

"_Hermione_! You should know better than _anyone_ you aren't supposed to take it like that."

"I know _full well_ the effects of taking a calming draught too quickly. And I don't give a _damn_."

She handed him back the empty glass.

"Thank you."

Harry dropped it in his pocket and sighed. "Who have you told about the prophecy and your theory?"

"Only Narcissa knows," she answered and sat in one of the large wingbacks by the window. She already could feel the potion circulating in her veins, like half a bottle of Firewhiskey numbing her mind and senses.

"Good. Though… I'd rather she didn't know, but make sure no one else finds out. Do you think she'll talk?"

"No, I don't. I think she wants to stop whatever he's doing as badly as I do, just for different reasons."

"Well, I'll trust your instincts. If you're right, we may have a huge advantage right now. If he's got his sights set on the Ministry, we can head him off. Prevent his plan from coming to fruition."

"How do you plan to accomplish that, Harry? Really… if the people fall in love with him, you can't stop him." She gazed at him with heavy-lidded eyes. She looked on the verge of passing out.

"Rita Skeeter still loves a good _or_ bad story. Maybe she'll be inundated with Malfoy gossip."

"_Please_, you think she isn't in his pocket yet? _Honestly_?"

"I…" Harry leaned back into his chair and sighed. "I hope not. I don't have any good plans just yet."

"Well, we better think of something soon. Tonight, the ball is set in motion. If only we could prevent it from starting." She stared out the window with a glazed look. "Take me away, Harry. Take me away from here before I do irreparable damage."

Harry looked as if he might cry as he gazed at his longtime friend. "You know I can't. It's binding, no matter where you run to."

"Yes," she whispered, "I know."

After a long silence, she finally spoke.

"Did you know when you sent me here?"

"No, not that it was this far along. I would never have let you come if I'd had any idea."

"Did Remus know?"

Harry shrugged. "I don't think so."

"I'll never forgive myself if I help him do what I fear he wants to."

"I know, but it will never come to that. I _swear_ to you. I _will_ stop him."

"I know you will," she said with a slight smile. "And … I feel _lovely_, Harry. Thank you."

Harry snorted and a smile crossed his lips.

Someone knocked twice and the door opened.

"It's time, dear," Narcissa said.

Hermione and Harry stood in unison, though Hermione wobbled slightly. Harry caught her forearm and steadied her.

They met Narcissa at the door. She fussed over Hermione's smudged makeup a little and repaired what she could.

"We're off to see the wizard then?" Hermione said with a smirk.

Harry laughed quietly while Narcissa looked slightly confused.

_Well of course they were off to see the wizard,_Narcissa thought as she watched her almost-daughter-in-law exit the room. _Who else would they be going to see?_

* * *

Hermione hesitated outside the curtains that would lead her down the aisle. She tried to turn and run but Harry held her arm fast and gave her a reproachful look.

She heard the phantom orchestra strike up their march.

Her heart leapt and she knew without the effects of the calming draught it would have been a deafening roar in her ears.

She swallowed deeply and waited.

The curtains were drawn back and revealed a would-be terrifying sight. Nearly three-hundred guests, separated by an aisle (which could have plainly said Death Eaters this way, Order Members that), stood looking at her. Some beamed at her with tear stained faces. Some glowered at her with pure loathing and disdain. Some were completely indifferent. Some, she knew instinctively, there was Mrs. Weasley with her fiery hair. But most were indistinguishable behind their masquerade masks.

Harry squeezed her hand reassuringly.

She watched them, through her bejeweled mask, watching her.

Harry began to pull at her arm slightly, urging her forward.

She fell into the slow rhythm of the bridal walk, all the while feeling like a once-loved queen approaching the guillotine.

"_Breathe_," he whispered to her and continued leading her down the aisle.

And she did. She had been oblivious to holding her breath. Once she the fresh air hit her lungs, she felt a fresh surge of calm circulating her veins.

Then she saw him there. Draco was standing there waiting like some Venetian prince. He was robed in pure black and only the platinum of his hair, which glowed silver in the candle light, made him noticeable.

For a moment, she felt like a princess. She was taken in by the splendor of the white tent, lit by a thousand floating candles. She was enthralled by the guests, unable to tell who was friend and who was foe. She was entranced by the music, floating ethereally on the air.

She let Harry guide her all the way to the archway where Draco and the vicar waited. He hadn't taken his eyes off of her since she had step foot on the aisle.

Briefly her mind registered the fact and she smirked as Harry handed her over to Draco's awaiting palm.

_I knew I looked fantastic, but hot damn…_she thought and her grin widened.

Draco gave her a curious look.

The vicar began his speech.

"Are you _drunk_, Granger?" Draco whispered so only she might hear.

"Calming draught, you dolt." She waivered slightly in his hand and he tightened his grip to keep her from losing balance.

"And I assume you chugged it?"

"Affirmative," she hissed. She gave him an eye that told him to shut up.

"_Charming_." He looked slightly irritated, but she couldn't figure out why on Earth he might be. Would he have prefered she not had the potion and retched all over his shiny black shoes?

"Not particularily," he muttered.

She raised a brow at him slightly; she hadn't spoke, had she? Well she might have… she _thought_ she hadn't, but there was always the chance. What with being so relaxed and her thoughts just bouncing about, maybe she did unintentionally share something…

Draco squeezed her hands tightly, verging on painfully.

She snapped back into the moment.

"…do you Hermione, take Draco to be…"

She breathed and waited.

"I…"

_Don't_.

"I do," she said softly.

* * *

_**AN: I truly apologize for how long it's been!! I know this chapter is short, but don't worry Chapter 24 is already ready and I'm going to post it as soon as I'm done with this one. Thank you to everyone who has read (and reread) and reviewed. I am truly, truly sorry. And, no, this fic is NOT abandoned. I have every intention of completing this segment of the saga, and soon hopefully. Thank you again. I hope you enjoy it!**_


	24. Chapter 24: A Reception to Remember

-Chapter 24 -

Hermione stood in the ballroom, a glass of champagne in her hand. She watched masked couples spinning about the center of the dance floor. She saw her friends at the banquet tables enjoying the spread Narcissa and Ginny had set up. She observed notorious Death Eaters, albeit behind masks, laughing and chatting.

The calming draught had long since worn off and, though she was glad the worst of it was over, she longed to be numb. She knocked back the flute of alcohol and deposited it on the passing tray of a server.

She sighed and removed the white feathered and jeweled mask from her face and placed it on the table of honor behind her.

When she turned back around to face the crowded room, she was met by a most unwelcomed site.

A tall, handsome man, dressed fully in black with a simple black mask covering the upper half of his face stood before her.

And she knew _exactly_ who he was.

The black wavy hair, the golden complexion, the dark stubble sprinkled on his chin and the almost-black irises all told her.

"Rodolphus," she acknowledged him in barely a whisper.

"Ma'am," he replied taking a step closer, invading her personal space.

He reached up and twisted a loose tendril around his long finger. "I must say, you look absolutely _delectable_."

Hermione shuddered and glanced about her quickly.

He leaned in further, his lips just close enough to her ear that his whispered breath tickled. "Perhaps the next time Lord Malfoy is gone, I'll have a taste, hmm?"

He leaned back and uncurled her hair from his finger. As he pulled away, he subtly let it slide down the exposed flesh of her neck.

Hermione blanched and pulled back.

"Sir, _kindly_ remove your hand from my person," she said in a firm voice, sounding every bit like an offended duchess. "Your comments and your… proximity are neither appropriate _nor_ desired. Behave yourself."

A wicked smirk crossed his lips and he stepped away from her. He bowed low and captured her hand as he did so. He planted a polite kiss on the back and released it.

"Yes, ma'am," he said and disappeared into the crowd.

A look of disgust crossed her pretty lips and she discreetly wiped her hand on her skirt. _Some strange test?_ She wondered. She flicked a derisive brow up quickly in acceptance that she would never understand and quickly pushed the encounter from her mind.

Only just in time.

Harry and Ginny approached her, flanking a slightly flushed Ron. Lavender followed meekly behind, not wanting to be seen by the newly wedded Hermione.

"Great party," Harry said as soon as the group was before her. He smiled and his eyes darted between Ron and her nervously.

"Yes, it turned out quite smashing," Ginny added and prodded Ron in the ribs as she did so, with an innocent smile.

Ron reached up and rubbed his chin, never making eye contact with the woman in white before him.

He furrowed his brows and sighed, "Can we talk, Mione?"

She only stared at him, but he took it as an acceptance.

He glanced at the others and they fell back into the crowd to give the two space.

"I…," he rubbed his chin again and his eyes flicked over the multitude of guests. "Thanks for inviting us. You didn't have to, but I'm glad I didn't have to miss it."

Hermione rolled her eyes. _Only because you would have missed all the free food_, she thought wryly.

"Look, I know I was a right arse and mucked things up royally, but … I still care about you. I… you've been in my life for as long as I can remember. I mean, truly, I don't remember what life was like before we rescued you from that troll. And it's been… _different_ since… I know we can't be as close we were… but I… I'd like to still be friends, if it's possible. I really…" he skipped a beat. "I really messed things up and I'm sorry. You…" he scuffed his shoes on the floor and shoved his hands in his pockets.

"You have no idea _how_ sorry." He sighed heavily and continued staring at the floor, though the pink in his cheeks blossomed brighter. "And uh… you know how I feel about all _this_," he waved a hand about them, gesturing to the party. "I just want you to know that… well I'm here for you. Like Harry is, I mean. I'd do anything for you. _Anything_."

Hermione felt her eyes misting and for a moment he was just the boy she'd gone to school with, one of her best friends.

"Thanks, Ron," she answered softly.

He nodded and continued to not make eye contact. He looked ever where but at her.

"You uh… you look great," he said sheepishly.

"Thanks," she said again.

"Well, I think that's all I really wanted to say. I… could I write you? Just to check in? Just as friends?" His eyes finally found her face.

Hermione thought a moment and smiled sadly, "I'd like that, Ron."

"Great," he clapped his hands together and shuffled nervously some more. "Alright, I'll let you get back to… partying."

Hesitantly he wrapped an arm around her shoulders and gave her a one-armed, guy hug.

Hermione felt a mixture of emotions as she watched his ginger head disappear into the crowd. Anger, she was still hurt by his actions. Sadness, he'd never really be the same friend he was in school, it would always be awkward. Happiness, she felt like a weight was lifted finally, a blockage was removed, she and Ron and… made up? Well… something _like_ making up, she figured. But it felt good whatever it was.

She leaned back against the table behind her and took in the merriment around her. Such an odd night, she thought. Her eyes skimmed the tables and guests.

Candle light and dim chandeliers had the ballroom glowing golden. Each table had a gorgeous centerpiece of flowers: white lilies and roses, baby's breath, gardenias, and purple orchids.

_Whoever chose purple?_ Hermione wondered. No matter. It was a regal color and made the wedding truly fit for royalty.

Half the guests had removed their masks, the other half (the unsavory half) had kept them firmly in place.

Without ever intending it, Hermione had created a way that both good and evil could attend her wedding without one fully being aware of the others. She shook her head, if only Harry knew that five steps behind him, one of the Lestrange brothers flirted shamelessly with his secretary.

A large, dark chest obstructed her view and she looked up at the offender's face.

"May I have the next dance?" Lucius Malfoy asked her, his tone as cool and detached as ever.

She nodded mutely and watched him disappear into the crowd.

_Down the rabbit hole_, she found herself thinking for not the first time since arriving at the Malfoys' ancestral home. One would think she would have become accustomed to such peculiar occurrences over the duration of her stay at the Manor, but the actions of Lucius never ceased to amaze her. He was truly a conundrum.

She gazed into the crowd with a look of pure confusion and wonder. Was she the _only_ sane person at this soiree? Had the entire lot gone mad?

She lifted another glass of champagne from a passing server and cautiously sniffed the contents.

_Smelled fine_. She took a sip and mentally gagged at the taste. _Tasted normal_.

She lost track of time as she people-watched. It seemed only moments later when a large, warm hand grasped hers and she found herself being led onto the floor.

Not surprisingly, he had absolutely perfect form. He locked his frame in place and lightly grasped her tiny hand in his. She methodically placed her other on his shoulder; the fine silvery hairs of his pony tail tickled her fingers. She felt his other hand grip her waist and suddenly, she felt very nervous.

She swallowed and heard the music key up. The waltz began.

It was the first time she had danced that night and the sheer size of the dance floor was baffling. Not to mention, she knew this song to be a particularly long one and did not at all look forward to the next awkward eight minutes.

It was impossible to not be led by his imposing form. He had the grace of a ballet dancer, or a panther, she thought. She felt her own experience to be far inferior; however, she considered disdainfully, she had _only_ been dancing for 10 years. He had at least 40 on her. She knew him to be right at 50 now, still _ridiculously_ young for a wizard. And she knew _his_ type began formal dancing when they began receiving tutors, before ever attending Hogwarts.

"You dance remarkably well…" he said, breaking their uncomfortable silence.

"For a Muggleborn?" she supplied.

He said nothing but his eyes met hers for a moment.

"My mother insisted I take lessons the summer after I started Hogwarts, when she found out that dances were occasionally held at the school and in society. I had several years of ballet and jazz when I was younger, but ballroom dancing dominated my learning after that."

"Intriguing, and what, may I ask, does ballroom encompass?" He was making small talk, and she knew it.

She smirked and began listing them, "Minuet, Quadrille, Polonaise, Pas de Gras, Viennese Waltz, Foxtrot, Tango, Charleston and some Swing."

"_My_, you _have_ learned quite a bit. Though I dare say, half of those are far too… _exuberant_ to be found at most Wizarding social gatherings."

"Perhaps it's time to move forward then?" She was goading him slightly. She knew several of the dances were Wizard dances that had crossed to the Muggle world, but several (such as the Tango and Swing) were _Muggle_ dances that had gained popularity in the Wizarding world.

"Perhaps," he answered politely.

He was far to refined for her taste. It was nothing but politeness and charm from him it seemed. Well, that wasn't _entirely_ true. She knew he could be incensed if the right buttons were pushed. But unlike with Draco, she was quite unwilling to push him _that_ far.

He continued to lead her gracefully around the room, through the other staggered couples that were dancing, though not nearly as pleasantly as Hermione and Lucius. She knew a great many eyes followed them as they took their turns.

"Thank you for… for letting my friends attend. I know the dangers involved but it means a great deal to me," she said.

"Thank yourself. You put the ridiculous idea of _masks_ into Narcissa's head," he stated, clearly scornful of the idea himself.

"I feel the same way you do, but Narcissa and Ginny became insistent. But I suppose I should be grateful, they wouldn't be here otherwise," she added, more for herself than for him.

"Indeed."After several beats, he spoke again. "Was Rodolphus giving you much trouble?"

Hermione's eyes widened slightly, she didn't know anyone had seen that little exchange.

"Not much, just being… creepy," she answered quietly.

"That is his … modus operandi, my dear. But don't fall into some false sense of security. He is not to be trusted. Don't let him ever think you're interested…" he glanced at her again and she knew the full warning of his words.

She nodded and continued to be led around the floor.

"Another you would be wise to avoid is Yaxley," he met her eyes and she could feel the light touch of magic.

She flushed and wondered about the evening she spent in the wine cupboard. _Did he know?_

He smirked at her, and she thought vaguely of the resemblances between father and son.

"Another suggestion, if I may be so bold, you really must learn Occlumency. Especially now."

Her cheeks turned redder and she couldn't meet his face.

He knew she was terribly embarrassed and he was beginning to see why his son enjoyed prodding her so much.

"I apologize, sir, for eavesdropping. I was in the wrong place at the wrong time and didn't want to be caught," she still couldn't look at him.

"Indeed."

Her heart was racing.

"I suppose I could Obliviate you," he suggested.

"It's not necessary," she finally looked at him and he raised a quizzical brow. "Really, it's not. I didn't hear anything important."

"No you didn't. But I suppose I shouldn't really expect much more from one such as yourself. I needn't tell you how _utterly_ rude your actions were."

She felt her hair bristling.

"Sir, if you would like to speak of rudeness, I'd be happy to oblige you…"

But she wouldn't have the chance. The waltz stopped. He released her hand and took a step away. He inclined slightly and spoke, "Thank you, madam, it has been most _enlightening_."

His haughty smile only infuriated her more. _Who does he think he is?_ She hissed mentally.

As he straightened himself and began to leave her on the floor he paused momentarily by her to whisper, "_I _am Lucius Malfoy. And keep in mind what I suggested."

She flushed again. _Occlumency_, she thought. Very Soon.

She was pink in the face and angry. She spun around and glared at his arrogant, blonde head. She practically stomped back to her table and took a seat at it. She wasn't conscious of it, but she pouted like a three year old. She had been bested by the other slimy git.

_Foul, loathsome, evil, self-righteous…._

She mentally ticked off a slew of vibrant adjectives for her father-in-law.

But as she calmed, more tumultuous thoughts entered her mind. He had easily read her thoughts. How much had he seen? He hadn't seemed so terribly angry. He didn't even seem to think it was _that_ surprising or rude even. His comments seemed more for show than anything. Whose side was he on anyway? And was he offering his own services to teach her Occlumency or was he suggesting she learn it elsewhere? Why would he give her such a warning as that? Shouldn't he want her duplicity exposed?

He was such an enigma, a conundrum. _Indeed_, she thought, using the man's own word. She could spend years with him and not understand him, she knew.

She felt the presence of another and looked up. Both Draco and Perseus stood above her.

She glanced between the two men and waited.

Draco glared at Perseus and spoke, "_I'm_ taking the _next_, and you can have the one after."

Perseus rolled his eyes. "Would you have even asked at all if I hadn't been on my way here first?"

"_Was_ I asked?" Hermione questioned, for she had missed it entirely if she had been.

"You know the traditional order the dances must fall in, don't be ridiculous," Draco said to Perseus.

Both men continued to ignore her completely. She huffed.

"Now you're worried about tradition? Where was that concern-"

"Oh bugger off! This is a formal engagement and is governed by rules we were _both_ raised to adhere to. As I said, stop being ridiculous, cousin," Draco was getting angry.

However, Perseus didn't let his temper show. He looked down at Hermione and said, "I believe you are taken for the next two dances."

And he walked away, leaving Draco fuming beside her. Why did he get so angry so quickly? _He has such a short fu_se, Hermione thought.

"Well, come on," Draco snapped at her. He grabbed her forearm and began nearly dragging her to the dance floor.

As the music started, Draco gathered her up, quite a bit closer than his father had held her, and began their dance.

"Why are you so angry?" she asked him as she watched his nostrils flare.

"_Leave it_," he muttered.

She rolled her eyes and sighed.

"Did you and my father have a nice time?" he asked, in the same snippy tones.

She looked at him in shock, "You _can't_ be serious… are you jealous of your father?"

"_Hardly_," he snapped. "What did you talk about? He walked away grinning like a fool."

She hesitated, trying to decide what to share and what to keep close.

"We discussed dancing and manners. He told me I should be wary of Rodolphus and Yaxley, but your mother had already told me as much."

"What was he smiling about?"

"He believes I'm an ill-bred and rude little Mudblood. Surely you know that," she bit.

Whether he believed it or not, he dropped the subject.

Several minutes passed and she felt some of the tension leave his form.

She finally worked up the nerve to ask about the thing that had been worrying her for weeks.

"Draco…there's… something I wanted to ask you. I just thought of it really but there hasn't been a chance and as this is the first time…" Hermione rambled nervously.

"_Yes_…?" Draco asked, clearly annoyed, as he continued to lead them in a waltz around the ballroom.

"Well…about tonight…."

"_What_? Spit it out already."

"Well, it's the um… wedding night and well…what exactly…"

"Oh…_oh_," Draco said in realization. He hadn't put much thought towards _that_ matter. Well.. he _had_ but he imagined _his_ thoughts on it had taken a _slightly_ different turn than _hers_ had.

"We don't have to…. right?" she asked nervously; this was not a conversation she was enjoying.

"Yes, actually, we do. It's part of the ceremony. We have to," Draco said, as if it were the simplest thing in the world.

"Have to?"

"Yes."

"Well…what if we don't?"

"That's not an option. We have to." He began their third turn around the room.

"But _what if we don't_? What happens?"

"Alright, you obviously aren't understanding this," he was getting pissed again and she regretted bringing it up. "There is no option of not doing it. I've never heard of a wizarding couple that didn't consummate the marriage. You just _have_ to."

"Well do you honestly think they'd run around making headlines about how they didn't do it?" Hermione asked in a huff.

"Granger. You can be so _thick_ sometimes. It's part of the binding spell from the ceremony. It has the effect of a lust potion that gains intensity as the night goes on. You simply can't avoid it."

"But…"

"Is the thought of having sex with me _that_ bad?" He asked rather loudly.

"_Merlin_, Draco! Keep your voice down." Hermione looked around the room quickly. She didn't think anyone knew exactly what he said; only that he had been on the loud side. "And…no…yes…_no_. That's _not_ an easy answer. Look. No, because…well…for obvious reasons, you _are_ a very attractive man. You aren't repulsive or anything that would make a woman not want to…"

His lips curved into a haughty smirk, all traces of his angered seemed to have evaporated.

"Oh, don't get full of yourself. Anyway, I think it's safe to assume that you have plenty of ….err… _experience_.-"

"Yes, I think that's safe to assume," he added, still smirking.

"-You wouldn't be a bumbling idiot that would royally screw it up. But, all of that aside, yes, it _is_ a bad thought because… I don't love you."

"What's _that_ got to do with anything?"

"_Everything_!" Hermione hissed at him.

To all those who took the time to watch them, it was painfully obvious the two were deep in the midst of an argument. Though, if one did not pay attention it would have been easy to miss as they did not falter once in their waltz.

"I don't understand…"

Hermione sighed heavily.

"It wouldn't be _special_, Draco. I don't love you. I might like you…like as in find you tolerable most of the time- _half_ of the time- but I don't love you, not now, _if ever_."

Draco frowned at her. The words stung slightly. But had he expected something different? "I've been with plenty of women that didn't love me."

"You _think_ they didn't love you. Did it ever occur to you that you might have been breaking many hearts all these years? For most women…it means something, whether they admit it or not."

"Well that's stupid," Draco said in annoyance.

Hermione rolled her eyes at him.

"No matter, you don't really have a choice. You'll enjoy it."

"Could your ego be _any_ bigger?" Hermione asked. "You are unbelievable."

"No, dear, I'm _very_ believable. I bet your problem is that you've never been with someone that knows what they're doing. Am I right?"

Hermione glared at him.

He squeezed her hand tightly to get her to answer.

"You know I've only been with Ron, damn it! Quit squeezing, _that hurts_!"

"So I figured." He grinned devilishly.

"You're an arrogant bastard, Draco Malfoy," she whispered.

"Honestly, did you not think this would come sooner or later?" He studied her for a moment. "You didn't think we'd _actually_ get married, did you? You didn't think we'd go through with it. What was your plan, Granger?"

Her eyes met his and for a moment fear lit them. What did he know? Had his father told him anything before now? Surely he couldn't know about her true purpose. Could he?

"I…I don't know…" She swallowed. "I never thought about it. And you can't really call me 'Granger' anymore, you know." She tried to distract him.

"I'll call you _whatever_ I like. And you need to get used to thinking about it. You'll be doing far more than that in a few hours." His tone hinted at anger again. "And don't forget, you're the only woman I'm allowed to touch and if you think I'm going to be satisfied with one night over the course of a lifetime…" He glared at her maliciously. "You're _sorely_ mistaken."

Hermione's eyes widen slightly at the darkness of his comment.

Where had this fury _come from_? _Why_ was he so angry? She just couldn't wrap her mind around it. Unless the reality of the marriage and the impending night were bothering him as much as they were her. But he _had_ agreed to all of this. He couldn't _really_ be that angry about it. What on earth was his problem?

"Really, what is the matter with you? Are you upset with _me_? Have I done something?" She demanded.

"A great many somethings, one of them being breathing."

"Sod off, Malfoy," she snapped.

They were _utterly_ hopeless. She'd have been better off marrying Lucius, at least she and he could go five minutes without wanting to kill the other. Or at least they could act like it.

He formed several choice retorts to her comment but the very thought of what he would have implied was affecting him a great deal. Hell, it had been months since he'd been with a woman and the tension and frustration were possibly the highest they had ever been.

Just watching her, in her low cut gown, with more than eyeful of cleavage spilling over the top was driving him _mad_. And she had gone twirling about the room with his father, hugging the Weasel, and flirting with Rodolphus. Rodolphus, damn him, had been indecently close to her. He was furious and… well he couldn't get the quickly approaching wedding night off his mind. Every time he looked at her, all he could think about was ripping that pretty white dress off of her and…

"_Malfoy_," she hissed angrily. "Where were you?"

He sighed and felt the strong need to readjust himself. Angry. He needed to be angry or drunk. And he _really_ needed to get away from her. Being so close to her was _not_ helping at _all_. He saw, on one of their turns, Perseus watching and gave him a sharp nod.

The American man stepped into their path and politely asked to cut in. Draco obliged without a word to her and disappeared before she even knew what was happening.

"What on _Earth_ is the matter with him?" she asked the handsome, dark haired man who now held her.

Perseus had an idea and smiled at her devilishly. "I'm sure he's just excited."

She looked at him like he had truly gone off his rocker, "Excited about _what_?"

He shifted his jaw and bit his tongue and let his eyes do the talking. He glanced down at her décolletage and licked his lips before meeting her gaze again.

She blushed crimson.

"No, he's not… he doesn't see me like _that_," she stumbled, "I can assure you."

"Can you?"

She was feeling extremely exposed and uncomfortable. Now every face she saw as they danced around the room seemed to be a man gawking at her.

"It's not possible. I'm a Muggleborn, your _type_ doesn't…"

"_My_ type? Are you terribly sure? Because I dare say, you are the slaughter lamb in the wolves' den, princess."

"Don't be ridiculous."

"I keep hearing that tonight, but I'm thinking perhaps you and Draco are the ones being ridiculous."

"What are you talking about? Speak plainly."

"I'm talking about your…obvious attraction to one another. It's palpable. And, Mrs. Malfoy, I promise you, even if he weren't interested, _every other_ Pureblood man in this room is."

"That's _absurd_. They all hate me; they know what I am…"

He smiled and shook his head, "He's right about you, you can be extremely dense sometimes."

She shut her mouth and focused on all the familiar faces they passed. She was looking for something in those watchful eyes that would prove him wrong.

"You _really_ don't know how beautiful you are, _do_ you?" he finally asked.

"I'm not beautiful. Narcissa, Asteria, Ginny…"

"Yes, they _are_ gorgeous women… but you have a… _je ne sais quoi_… you are forbidden in ways they aren't. You don't know you're beautiful and it's obvious in the way you carry yourself, and that is _so_ innocent. Your wild hair is exotic and completely abnormal. Your eyes are… large and inquisitive. You know so much but you _see_ so little. You are so… _naïve_. You _are_ beautiful, Hermione. Maybe not in the same way the Purebloods are, but I promise you, all of their husbands are watching you right now."

"Why is innocence and naivety attractive? I don't understand that."

He shrugged. "Men are equally as attracted to innocence as they are to experience. One is easy and a sure thing, the other is… deliciously corruptible."

She snorted. "Your type would have a hard time corrupting _me_."

His face took a more serious tone and he studied her eyes, "I hope your right. I _truly_ do."

The waltz ended and he led her from the floor, back to her table. He inclined slightly before disappearing into the mass of guests.

Hermione felt exposed and… ogled. She began slipping through the shadows and toward the terrace. She needed air, she needed to breathe. It had become stifling in the crowded ballroom.

She let herself out onto the porch and shivered as the cool night air caressed her bare shoulders.

The clouds and long since departed and the silver light of the moon lit the grounds. She took the three steps down into the gardens and breathed deeply.

The fresh aroma of rain clung to the air and she was air of the moisture clinging to the bottom of her skirt and soaking her satin shoes. She was aware and didn't care. She followed the path into the garden.

Draco had seen her slip out and worked his way to the doors, quietly exiting the loud party as well. He stepped onto the wide terrace and only saw the silvery blue of her white dress as she vanished down the garden path and out of sight.

_Where was she going?_

He followed her into the stillness of the night.

He had been completely unable to clear his thoughts in the time since he left her. And it helped none watching her being held so closely to Perseus. Sure, it enflamed his anger as he had watched his cousins hand dip precariously down her lower back, but it had done nothing to help with his _other_ problem.

Not even the nattering of his mother and her 'friends' could distract him.

"_Granger_!" He hissed, only twenty feet behind her.

She spun around with wide eyes and her hand at her heart, drawing his gaze down…

"Oh, _Malfoy_, you gave me a start. You shouldn't sneak up on people like that…" she began rambling.

He didn't speak. He simply crossed the distance between them. She backed quickly away and into a large statue of Tiberius Malfoy on his favorite black stallion.

"Draco…" she started, seeing the wild look in his eyes.

But it did no good; he swooped in on her and wrapped one arm around her waist, pulling her to him and threaded the other into her hair, completely immobilizing her.

In the matter of seconds since he had called her name, she barely had time to process what was happening.

His lips collided with hers hungrily and he pressed her against the concrete behind her. The kiss was demanding and heated, like the few before it had been. And she felt how excited he _truly_ was pressed against her thigh. She tried to push him away but hadn't the strength and was quickly losing the desire to.

His lips left hers and started trailing down her neck as his hands began sliding over the silk of her stomach.

"_Draco_," she gasped, still trying to regain some control of the situation.

"Shouldn't… have worn… this dress…" he muttered between his heavy breathing and kisses.

She opened her eyes and looked over his shoulder and inhaled sharply at what she saw.

Draco's head snapped up, that was a sound women didn't make when he was doing what he was.

He hadn't the chance to look over his shoulder when darkness closed in on Hermione and she went limp in his arms.

_Well, that surely kills the mood_, he thought dryly as he gathered her weight and glanced behind him.

His eyes widened and he whispered to the night, "Oh _shite_."

* * *

_**AN: Oh dear, I've left you on a terrible cliffhanger. What did they see? :) You'll have to wait (not long, I promise) and find out!! I hope everyone enjoyed this chapter. I love reading your reviews, even if I can't reply directly. Thank you so much! And check back soon for the next installment!**_


	25. Chapter 25: This is magic

Chapter 25

Draco's eyes widened as he held his burden and whispered, "Oh _shite_."

The creature before him snarled menacingly and a bead of spittle trailed from its jaw like a spider on a silken thread.

It towered over Draco, easily reaching seven feet in height. It was gaunt and emaciated, somewhat resembling a human or something like what a human might have been. It had a light covering of coarse fur all over its body and a tattered loin cloth draped at its waist. Its snout protruded from its face, like a werewolf's, but it stood erect like a man. Its pale skin, under the fur, glowed in the moonlight. It looked like a hairy, resurrected corpse.

Draco cowered back against the stone statue behind him.

The creature lunged.

Only a foot from Draco and his charge, it snapped back on some invisible chain, though it did not stop gnashing its teeth.

"Sei ruhig, mein Freund," a voice whispered in the darkness.

The creature whimpered and pawed at the ground but continued to watch Draco hungrily.

A man emerged from the darkness to be illuminated by the distant lights of the house.

"Wytte," Draco said quietly.

"It is I," he answered in a whisper.

The man's face was a terrifying visage. A large, grotesque scar covered the left side and wrapped under his jaw to trail down his neck. No doubt, this injury was what had given him such an eerie and uncommon speaking voice. He had vibrant red hair, not unlike that of the Weasley family. And he leaned heavily on a black, knotted cane, dragging his right foot beside him as he emerged from the darkness.

"You'll have to forgive my companion," he coughed slightly before continuing on in the hushed tones, "he hasn't fed in several moons."

Draco's eyes flicked to the beast beside the man and he grimaced slightly.

"How do you do that?" Draco asked quietly. "Keep him at bay?"

"I use his native tongue. He once was human like you and I, you see. But the black magic overcame him. It consumed him. At heart, he responds to the words of his home," Wytte looked up at the beast and patted its large fur-covered shoulder.

Hermione stirred in Draco's arms and moaned softly.

"The moments are fleeting, so I'll make this quick, for it is your wedding night I will give a twenty-four hour reprieve. Tomorrow night, however, your presence is required. It all begins tomorrow, Draco."

Draco readjusted the woman in his arms and looked at Wytte again, "Where?"

"Your father will know. You'll meet him beforehand and Apparate to the location afterwards. She is not to know of your purpose or destination."

"I know, but she'll ask questions…"

"Then you must appease her curiosity however necessary."

Wytte turned to the creature and patted it once again before speaking, "In den Wald; gehen Sie."

The beast groaned and whimpered before snapping its jaws and vanishing into the darkness.

"Tomorrow, Draco," the he too disappeared, not into the darkness, but rather into a cloud of black smoke.

Draco watched the shadows cautiously for several moments before hurrying to the veranda of the house. He sat Hermione in one of the lounge chairs on the porch and retrieved his wand.

"_Rennervate_," he whispered.

She stirred and blinked her eyes several times. When her eyes focused and she found Draco's, she spoke.

"What happened?"

"You passed out. Too much champagne?" he forced a smirk.

"Not at all, I had hardly any. I saw _something_…" she gazed into the garden and thought desperately.

"There was nothing there. I tried to wake you for several moments before bringing you back to the house," Draco lied.

She shook her head and bit at a fingernail.

"I know I saw something…"

Draco looked around nervously, as though he felt the beast still watching them.

"Look, we're about to leave so, go and say your good-byes," he said as he watched the garden.

"Leave? To where?" she was momentarily distracted from her muddled thoughts.

He turned and gazed at her with a quirked brow. "You don't expect to stay _here_ for our honeymoon do you?"

"Honeymoon?" She stood up and looked shocked. "I hadn't thought we'd have one…"

"Of _course_ we're having one, and _soon_, this spell is getting the better of me," he muttered the last bit.

"But I haven't packed and…" she started to pace and think. "And I can't _leave_, remember?"

She turned to face him and waited for him to realize what she spoke of.

Instead of saying a word he stepped towards her and put his hands around her neck. He followed the chain with his fingertips and found the clasp. As he unhooked it, his fingers trailed along the back of her neck and he felt the fire within reignited. He groaned and closed his eyes.

"What's the matter? Are you all right?" She asked swiftly.

"Fine. Go say goodbye, and make it quick," he stated rather harshly as he righted himself and shoved the ancient necklace into his pocket.

Hermione nodded and disappeared into the ballroom. Her fingers danced along her bare neckline and she felt as free as a bird.

She quickly found Harry and Ginny and told them she was about to leave. They tried to question her but even she didn't know where she was headed. But she promised to write.

Narcissa caught her as she tried to escape the ballroom and wrapped her in a tight hug.

"_My daughter_," she whispered affectionately.

Hermione felt her insides swell with warmth and hugged the woman back.

Lucius watched from a distance and pursed his lips.

Perseus emptied an entire glass of champagne as the word of their imminent departure reached his ears.

Hermione entered the empty hall and placed a hand over her heart and sighed. It had been a whirlwind of a wedding. She couldn't believe it was over. And, boy, what still awaited her. She was even more terrified of her night with Draco than she had been of the actual ceremony.

She started down the hall but was stopped as a hand appeared from the shadows and grasped her forearm.

A cloaked figured stepped out of a dark room and with the hand that had held Hermione reached up and removed her black hood. Asteria Zabini stood before the newest Malfoy. One hand grasped her wand instinctively and the other rested protectively on her now-visible bump.

Hermione immediately stiffened and prepared for a battle.

"Hear me out," the blonde woman stated but did not remove her hand from her wand hilt. "I don't like you, but… I have to say… I… well… you gained my respect after our last meeting. I'm sure it took a great deal of willpower to curb your tongue and your wand. And that is the only reason why I offer you this tonight."

Hermione watched the girl closely and wondered briefly how she had gained entry to the Manor in the first place.

"You _truly_ aren't safe here. You _cannot_ trust Draco. His vision is clouded by something even I can't comprehend."

"Why are you telling me this?" Hermione questioned, her wand still trained on the tall blonde before her.

"Because, you have fight. There's a fire in your eyes that I have not seen since before the war. You represent my childhood. And despite what you know of me and who I am, I cannot sit by and abide by the death of anyone. Not even my nemesis."

"Then what do you know? Tell me," Hermione demanded.

Asteria glanced over Hermione's shoulder at the busy ballroom only meters away.

"I can't. I can only tell you to be careful and be wary. Don't trust him, Granger. I don't know what he's doing, but it's dark."

Hermione glanced over her shoulder at the voices of several approaching men.

"I must go," Asteria whispered and raised her hood.

"Wait…" Hermione started.

"No, I mustn't be found here." The girl hurried into the dark room she had emerged from.

"Wait," Hermione said, following her into the darkness.

"Go, Granger! Just remember what I've said."

Green fire flared in the hearth.

"But you must know something…"

Asteria looked ghostly as the green light cast upward onto her face, creating shadows where none ever fell. She looked like Death in a blonde wig.

"I will find a way to tell you more… another time," the girl conceded before stating her destination and vanishing in a green swirl.

Hermione's heart pounded in her chest. She heard the men, laughing loudly in their drunkenness, pass her room.

She regained her composure and reappeared into the hall after the men and turned a corner. She hurried to her room to pack her things.

* * *

Hermione smiled at Harry in a daze as he cheerfully waved good-bye.

Things were moving too quickly for her to process.

In the matter of a few hours, she had married, been propositioned by a Death Eater, had her mind violated by her father-in-law, been told the most shocking news of her life, had her life threatened, been released from her prison, and now was off to consummate her marriage with a man she could neither love nor trust.

She felt the panic churn in her gut and a wave of nausea hit her. And what of the prophecy? She couldn't get pregnant now. But would he allow her protection? Would she have the foresight to use it? She was already feeling the effects of the binding spell and she knew Draco had been for some time. What if she forgot as soon as they… started?

The familiar tug of Apparition hit her and she closed her eyes, losing her train of thought.

The couple reappeared in the midst of a large, open room. Heavy wooden furniture surrounded them, covered in white cushions. Large floor-to-ceiling windows covered two sides of the large rectangular room and the curtains billowed inward.

Hermione turned her head towards one and inhaled deeply, consuming the sweet fragrance of fresh rain.

A deep rumble shook the small embellishments around the room. The chandelier tinkled as the noise reverberated.

"Where are we?" she asked, moving away from her husband towards one of the open window-doors.

"Florida," he said. She heard ice crackle and the thump of a heavy bottle.

She frowned and looked out into the evening. The sky glowed dimly from the newly set sun. Sinister black clouds filled the horizon and the ocean, dark and angry, churned and crashed on the beach. The palm trees in the yard whipped around in the abusive wind. Thunder rolled again and Hermione shivered as the cool wind hit her bare skin. A storm was coming.

"I thought you disliked America," she said softly.

"Hmm?" Draco questioned, "Why'd you think that?"

"Well, you spoke of your uncle and cousin as though that were one of the main reasons you hated them."

"I don't really hate them," he answered and she heard him come closer to her. "And I certainly don't hate America. I have a certain appreciation for the comforts the country supplies."

Hermione nodded vaguely and continued watching the waves rolling up the sandy beach front.

He sat his glass on the nearby end table and she heard him shuffling around. She looked over her shoulder and saw him removing his jacket and tie.

"I'm going to change," he said after a moment. "I assume you're going to as well?"

"Um…yes…" Was this really happening?

"Your room," he said as he began walking down a long dark hallway, "is here."

He stopped at a doorway and turned on a light.

"And your things are here already. I'll," he paused and looked back at her, still standing by the window. The sheer curtains swelled around her and her brown curls flittered around the edges of her face. "I'll join you in a few minutes."

She nodded and watched him disappear into the darkness. A light came on at the end of the hall and the door shut.

Her heart-rate sped into overdrive. She hurried down the hall and shut herself in her room.

She took a deep breath and put a shaking hand over her mouth. Was this truly about to happen?

She and Draco Malfoy were going to….

She felt bile rise up her throat and ran to the bathroom. Her nerves were getting the better of her. She flushed the toilet and crossed to the sink. She drank from the faucet and flushed her face.

She looked in the mirror and spoke.

"Calm down, Hermione. Just calm down, you silly bint. You've done this before. Just breathe."

Her reflection nodded and she reached up to remove pins from her hair. The pile of hair pins grew and her curls hung loosely around her head. She took her wand off the counter top and used it to unzip her gown, letting it pool on the floor as she stepped out of it.

She wore the white undergarments Ginny and Narcissa had chosen: a strapless white bra, flattering white bikini-cut knickers, and her thigh-high stockings.

She swallowed deeply and looked at her reflection, finding no faults in her appearance.

A knock sounded at her bedroom door and she froze.

"Granger?" he asked after several moments.

"Uh… come in…" she said hastily and pushed the bathroom door almost closed.

She heard the bedroom door open and close as he entered.

"I'll…" she swallowed again and breathed quickly, "be out in a moment."

He made no sound but she heard the bed creak slightly under his weight.

"Oh god," she whispered, watching herself in the mirror.

She reached up and fluffed her hair and pinched her cheeks.

"Oh god," she said again. "Here we go."

She flung the bathroom door open and stepped into the dimly lit bedroom.

Draco sat up from his lying position on the bed. His eyes travelled up and down her, taking in every inch of her body.

"Wow," he muttered.

She swallowed and closed her eyes.

"I really don't want to do this," she whispered.

"Come here," he stated, leaving little room for her to argue.

She approached him slowly. She breathed quickly like a scared rabbit.

When she was within arm's reach, she stopped moving.

He reached out and grasped her hip and yanked her closer.

His touch awoke whatever dragon had been sleeping inside of her and she felt pure fire course through her veins.

"_Oh_," she breathed.

He ran both his hands up her sides and she whimpered.

Something was wrong with her body. She had never felt like _this_ before. She felt… empowered and ravenous.

She grasped his head by his hair and tilted it back.

She bent down and kissed him desperately. He responded immediately and his hands continued travelling over her skin.

When her tongue touched his, she felt fireworks explode in her body and she collapsed onto him, taking them both to the mattress. She gasped.

"Oh god, _yes_!" she cried.

Draco's eyes widened.

Had kissing him alone done that?

She straddled him, pinning him to the bed, as she regained her breath.

He licked his lips and ran his hands over her hips and around her backside to cup her rear.

She gasped and immediately swooped into another kiss.

His touch was doing things to her she'd never felt before. It wasn't supposed to be like this, was it? They weren't even to the good stuff yet.

Hermione released his lips and sat up. He was breathing heavily and watching her every move. She tossed her curls back and looked every bit like Aphrodite. She reached behind her back, unhooked the clasp of her bra, and tossed it off the side of the bed.

His hands reached for her exposed flesh and she closed her eyes, reveling in the feel of his touch. _This_ was magic. This was very _strong_ magic.

And she knew it was going to be a long, but very enjoyable, night.

* * *

She woke the next morning in a fantastic mood. Exceptionally chipper for her normal morning self.

And she woke alone.

Which she decided was absolutely best. She would have been mortified to have faced him first thing that morning after what they had done the night before. She blushed as she thought about it.

What had gotten into her? She'd been an animal.

He'd have scratch marks down his back for the next week.

She started humming as she rose and went to shower and dress for the day.

She came out of her bathroom wrapped in a towel with her hair hanging in damp ringlets still humming a happy tune.

Her door swung open and her husband walked in.

"Morning," he said, as though nothing had happened between them.

"Good morning," she said with a smile, passing him to enter her closet.

"You're in a good mood…" he observed.

"I suppose I am," she said as she searched through her clothes. "Did you need something?"

He watched her reflection from the mirror hanging on the inside of the closet door. She must not have been aware he could see her because she dropped her towel and began stepping into her purple knickers.

He felt his breath hitch and looked away only to glance back a moment later.

"Draco?" she asked after several moments of silence.

"Sorry, breakfast is ready." He said, still watching her walk around bare-breasted in her closet.

"Was that all?" she asked and turned to look at the door, then she noticed it cracked and him looking directly at her through the mirror. She blushed a bright crimson and snatched her discarded towel off the floor. "Malfoy!"

"Yes?" he asked innocently.

"You…you… _you_!" She yelled at him, flinging the door open to glare at him.

"Me, me, _me_. Yes." He said and crossed the distance to the closet door where the little witch stood. His eyes drifted down to the towel and with one finger he tugged on the front of it.

She swatted his hand away with her free one. "_Get out_."

He frowned. It would be too much to ask for the same fire she'd shown the night before, wouldn't it?

"Not what you said last night," he muttered as he opened the bedroom door and stepped into the hall.

She arrived at breakfast several minutes later in a pretty yellow sundress and glared daggers at him.

"Purple suits your coloring," he said, sipping his glass of orange juice.

She huffed and set her jaw before looking at him.

"_Voyeur_," she hissed.

"You're my wife, I can look if I want," he sniffed and pushed the eggs around on his plate. He looked like a scolded child but finally asked, "What are we doing today?"

"How should I know, you dragged me down here. Don't you know of things to do here?"

"We could go to the beach," he offered.

She glanced out the large window beside the table and observed the overcast sky.

"Or… _something_," he added.

"Well I'm sure I could find things to do in the Muggle community. I've never been to… where _are_ we?"

"Florida, Granger," he said dryly.

"Where in Florida, Malfoy?"

"South of Miami."

"Oh… I've never been to Miami. There's a hopping night life and of course the beach and boardwalk and then there's the zoo and the science museum and art galleries…"

"I'll find something for us to do…" he said, shutting her up.

She frowned at him and continued her breakfast.

* * *

It was nearly eight when they returned for the evening. All things aside, it had been a fairly enjoyable day with only minor bouts of bickering between the couple. Hermione dropped onto one of the couches and let the bags of shopping fall around her feet.

"I'm buggered," she said as she propped her feet up on the ottoman.

"Dinner will be ready shortly. I have to leave for a few hours," he said, looming over her.

"Why?" she asked, suddenly alert again.

"Business, Granger. I'll be back in a few hours, will you miss me terribly?" he asked with a smirk.

"_Hardly_," she said and rolled her eyes.

"As I thought," he bent down and kissed her hard before straightening up and buttoning his jacket. He crossed the room and lifted his cloak from the hook by the door. "Goodnight."

"You know it's…" but the sound of Apparition cut her off and she found herself alone on the second night of her honeymoon. How was that for starting out their marriage? It certainly didn't bode well for their future.

* * *

**_AN: So... there it is. I hope it was satisfying. I'm absolutely terrified of writing sex scenes. So don't expect much more than this. :D I don't see myself as one of those Romance novel writers and have a very hard time putting those intimate moments into words. I like the mystery story so much better. Besides I'm sure your imaginations can conjure up much more elaborate scenes than I could ever write about. :) Thank you all so much for the reviews, I really love reading them. Thanks again guys and I really hope you like it! And these are my translations. If I've managed to muck it up, please someone let me know. :)_**

**_*Sei ruhig, mein Freund - German - Be calm, my friend_**

**_*In den Wald; gehen Sie - German - In the woods; go, you_**


	26. Chapter 26: The French Connection

-Chapter 26-

Hermione woke early.

The previous night, she ate dinner alone, read a few chapters in her new novel and went to bed alone. She had no idea when Draco returned. Or if he even had.

Her curiosity was satiated when she arrived in the dining room for breakfast. The food on the table was still steaming and warm but his seat was ajar and empty. A note sat on top of her plate with her name scrawled neatly across it.

She snatched it up, already assuming what message it held, and felt her anger begin to rise.

_H -  
Urgent business call. Will be back late, don't wait up.  
-D_

She bawled the piece of parchment up and tossed it at the empty fireplace.

Was she supposed to sit here alone all day, on her honeymoon, and knit? Oh, the audacity of such a man, to leave his new bride alone. By all rights they should be shagging night and day, unable to keep their hands off of each other. She rolled her eyes at the thought. _As if_ she wanted that.

Maybe she was lying to herself, it wouldn't be _so _terrible, she conceded.

She picked two pieces of fruit off the table and stepped out onto the patio. The scene was an unusual sight. The waves ripped and tore towards the beach, crashing loudly. Dark ominous clouds loomed above the sea. Yet, just above the shore the sky was as blue as the Mediterranean. Despite the cool breeze pulling at her silk robe, the sun beat down warmth that seemed to awaken her skin. She stood on the veranda, her curls flying madly behind her, her robe billowing away from her body exposing her bare legs, and watched the squall roll in.

_What to do, what to do?_ She wondered as she munched on her apple.

She wandered back inside as the wind became cooler and more violent.  
She looked longingly at the large TV in the living room. It wouldn't work, she knew, because of the magical wards the Malfoys had placed on the house.

In vain, she pushed the power button and waited hopefully as nothing happened.

"Bugger," she muttered.

She checked the clock, it was only eight. She settled into the large chair by the picture window and started reading her book. With any luck, she'd finish it by the afternoon.

* * *

Her stomach groaned loudly as the day darkened. She had skipped lunch and was several hours past dinner. She sat her book down and stretched. She was still in her robe and felt dirty from sitting all day without a shower.

She wondered absently where Draco was. _What was he doing? _

Hermione rose from her seat and went to remedy her situation.

After her long, hot shower and a bite to eat, she sat down at the table and looked around wistfully.

She picked up a sheet of parchment and began hastily writing a letter to Harry.

Before the depression she felt creeping upon her could take hold, she sealed the letter, sent it off with the owl, and went to bed.

* * *

She woke with a start.

Another loud crash sounded from the front room and she sat up, grasping her wand instantly.

She heard muttering and banging as she crept into the hall with her wand ready. The living room was dark, but she felt a cool draft from the open French doors and could hear the light rain as it landed on the palm trees.

She steeled her nerves.

"Who's there?" she demanded of the shadows. "I know you're in here, answer me."

She spun around in the darkness, listening for a sound that would give the intruder away. She couldn't hear him but she could smell him. She felt her fear being quickly replaced by anger.

The lamp by the sofa lit up.

"Hello, dear," Draco said in a low growl.

Hermione set her jaw and breathed through her nose, trying to calm herself.

"_Malfoy_," she said barely containing her rage, "It's three am. _Where _have you been?"

He stood slowly and wavered as he reached his full height. He was still wearing his suit trousers but he'd tossed his jacket and tie on the way in. They littered the floor along with his sleek black loafers. He had rolled his sleeves up over his elbows and unbuttoned the first three buttons of his pale blue shirt.

Hermione examined him from her distance and noticed a stain on the cuff of his right sleeve.

"What is that?" She asked taking a step closer. "Did you hurt yourself? Let me see your arm."

He frowned and glanced down at his arm.

He caught her hands just as she reached for his sleeve to pull it down.

"Stop," he hissed at her and pulled her flush against him. "Won't you give me a kiss and be happy I'm home?"

"_What_?" She asked. She studied his face in confusion. "Are you drunk?"

He thought a moment and looked away from her, "No, not yet."

"Then let go of me," she said pulling against his hold.

He tightened his grip and pulled her closer and spoke in a husky whisper, "Shut up."

Before she could refuse him, he kissed her.

She pushed against him and struggled to get free.

When he finally freed her lips, she snarled at him and renewed her struggles. "Let me _go_!"

He grasped her shoulders and kissed her again, harder and with more passion. She felt the fire in her start to burn and as her thoughts fogged, her struggles lessened.

He pulled away and looked at her with hazy eyes.

"Where were you?" she whispered. "What happened to you?"

"Stop talking, Granger," he said as he lifted her off her feet and hoisted her over his shoulder. "Just stop talking."

"Malfoy!" she yelled at him. She pounded the hard muscles of his back in vain. "Put me down! Where are you taking me? _Malfoy_!"

She reached up and pulled her hair aside as she saw her door passing them. She heard the click of a knob and smelled his room as they entered, it was warm and masculine. His foot shut the door behind them and the darkness of the room enveloped them.

* * *

A groan stirred Hermione from her sleep.

The sun peeked in through the heavy gold drapes and she shifted in the soft sheets feeling the coolness of them wherever they touched her naked skin.

Another moan sounded and her eyes flew open.

She looked around the room frantically and pulled the sheets tighter to her body.

"Mmmnnm," the man beside her groaned.

She slid her legs over the edge of the bed, careful to keep herself covered. She spotted her cream robe halfway across the room. She pulled on the sheet some more and as she did Draco stirred.

She bit her lip angrily and looked at her robe again. She'd have to run for it. Gently, she lowered her body from the bed to the floor. The heavy carpets silenced her footfalls. She turned and looked at the bed again before she dropped the sheet and tiptoed to her garment. She lifted the silky slip of fabric and started working out the sleeves to put it on as quickly as possible.

She breathed a sigh of relief as she tied the belt around her waist. She looked again at the slumbering man and began crossing the room as quickly and quietly as possible. She was almost to the door when he snored loudly. The sound nearly brought her out of her skin and she skirted sideways at the initial shock of it.

Her hip slammed into the dresser, in turn banging the heavy wooden chest into the wall and rattling the bottles on its surface.

"Leaving so soon?" he whispered as he stretched.

She closed her eyes and turned to face the bed.

"And here I thought you couldn't live without me, sneaking into my bed in the middle of the night," he muttered as he rolled over and pulled Hermione's pillow tightly to his chest.

"I did _not _sneak into your room, you buffoon," she spat.

She heard him snort at her and his long legs began to kick the blankets free of his body.

"You said you weren't drunk last night, do you not remember hauling me off like Tarzan?" she demanded.

His movements stilled and he was quiet a moment. "Like _who_?"

"Tarzan, the wild jungle-man. You can't just throw a woman over your shoulder and do as you please with her," she explained.

He lifted his pale body from the bed and landed on the floor with a thud. He crossed the short distance to her relatively quickly.

"Malfoy," she whispered and took a step away from him, "you're naked."

"_Did _I throw you over my shoulder?" he asked, leaning in and twining a curl around his long finger.

"Ye-yes," she stuttered.

"Did you love it?"

"What? _No_, get away from me."

"You stayed, so you mustn't have thought it that bad." He leaned in close again, his mouth inches from her turned cheek.

"You really don't remember doing that? Coming in at three am and scaring the hell out of me?" she asked trying to steer his thoughts in a different direction as she pushed against his chest.

"No, not at all," he said, drifting his lips over her neck. His fingers tickled her leg as he played with the hem of her robe. She felt the fabric raising and her eyes widened.

"Stop, Draco," she shoved with all her strength against his chest and as he fought for his balance she flung the door open and vanished into the hall.

* * *

Hermione took her time in the shower, trying hard to wash away his smell and the feel of his hands and lips on her body.

The worst was that he had been right, she had loved it. It had been phenomenal. A night unlike anything she'd ever experienced, save the once before. She wondered if every time with him would be so electric. Must she lose control every time he kissed her? Was she really that… deprived? She felt herself blushing from her hair to her toes. She really had to keep her distance from him. He was dangerous for her sanity and her focus.

_The shirt._

She froze in the shower and the hot water continued flowing over her.

The stain she'd seen on his shirt. He'd distracted her so perfectly she had completely forgotten about it.

She quickly turned off the shower and stood still for a moment. She flung the curtain away and snatched her towel from the counter were it sat. She wrung her hair and wrapped the cloth tightly around her body.

She knew she was being impetuous and should dress first. She should take her time and let him leave, but she couldn't wait. She had to know now.

She stuck her head out in the hall and heard Draco talking to someone in the main room in a low voice. She slipped silently into the hall and hurried to his door. She opened it noiselessly and shut it quietly behind her. Inside the dark room, she let her eyes flitter across his things as she searched for the discarded shirt.

She flung the comforter and sheets away hastily to find nothing. She spun around and her saw his pants tossed on the sitting chair in the corner. She lifted them to rummage through the pockets.

Empty. _No… wait,_ she felt a piece of thick parchment and pulled it out of the deep front pocket. It was a torn business card.

She tossed the pants back, trying to make them look as they had before.

"Where there hell is it," she muttered.

Her eyes travelled the room again. She kept coming back to the bed and trying to remember what had happened. The night was a lust filled haze, a flurry of arms and legs and clothes in the darkness.

"Damn it," she hissed.

She rubbed her forehead and sighed. As she opened her eyes, she saw a sliver of fabric peeking out from under the large bed.

She dropped to her knees so quickly pain shot through her body. She peered under the dark frame and fished out a sock.

"Damn, damn, damn," she said as she forced herself further under the bed reaching for another piece of fabric.

She froze as she heard the sound of the knob turning and the door groaned as it swung open.

Her eyes widened and she realized the picture she painted, legs and bum sticking out from under his bed, barely covered in a towel.

"Yaaah!" She squealed when he grasped her hips and pulled her forcefully out from under the bed. In a swift motion he lifted her to her feet and spun her to face him.

"What are you doing?" he asked in a soft, dangerous voice.

"I…I… lost… a…," she swallowed and looked at his face. The lie poured from her lips, "An earring. I thought maybe it fell out last night... in here."

She felt like he didn't believe a word she'd said as his eyes studied her figure and state of undress. She adjusted and tightened the towel while trying to avoid his gaze.

"_Tempting_," he whispered as his eyes followed her movements, "but I have work to do, you little minx. I'll tell the elves to look for your earring. Stay off the floors."

He reached up and for a moment she thought he would kiss her but he lightly pushed a wet curl off her shoulder and stepped away. He opened the door and held it wide, signaling for her to exit first.

She reached her door and heard him following behind her. She opened the door and stepped in. He stopped at the threshold and looked like he would say something.

He had said he didn't remember the previous night, but did he remember the shirt? Did he remember she had seen the blood?

Could she even be sure it _was _blood?

It was dark and the shirt was blue, it could have been anything really. But she felt _so_ strongly that it was blood. She remembered the way he'd stopped her from examining it. He'd caught her arm before she could touch him. And now, the shirt was missing. His pants were still there but…

"I'll be home early. I was planning on taking you to dinner tonight, so be ready when I get in."

"When will that be?" She fidgeted slightly, feeling exposed.

"Around seven." He started to move away but stopped and smirked devilishly at her. "A goodbye kiss for your dear husband?"

"I don't think you need one," she said and started to shut the door.

His large hand stopped its movement and he stepped into her room.

"It wasn't a request," he said and waited.

"Get out," she replied. She couldn't believe the nerve of him.

"I'll take it if you won't give it."

She knew he would. She stepped toward him and rose up on her tiptoes. She leaned in to kiss his cheek but he turned and stole it with his lips instead.

_Don't let him get to you. Keep your head_, Hermione told herself until he pulled away from her.

"Seven," he reminded her and then he left her alone.

She didn't move until she heard the Floo flare and the house become silent.

Once she knew she was alone, she fished the torn card from under her arm where she'd wedged it between her skin and the towel.

It was an expensive cream parchment. Only half of the establishment's name remained. All she could make out was 'Negre' and below it 'Nice'.

Perhaps the card had been in his pants from some previous trip?

No, she thought, surely the elves would have emptied the pockets when they collected the laundry. It had to be from the previous night.  
_  
What the hell was he doing in France?_

"On our _honeymoon_, no less," she muttered to the room as jealousy crept up on her.

Hermione checked the clock. It was still early at not yet nine. She dressed and ran to the Floo. She tossed in the powder, shouted the destination and stuck her head into the green flames.

"I'll need that on my desk by this afternoon, no later."

"Harry," she said.

"Right, but it's really imperative you get this taken care of..."

"Harry!"

"Hermione? Is that you?" The dark haired man stepped back into his office and looked at the Floo while adjusting his glasses.

"Yes, Harry, get over here."

He crossed the office in two strides and hit the floor before the fireplace.

"What's up? Are you alright?" he asked quickly.

"Fine, I'm fine. I need you to send me some things. It's _really _important. I need old Prophet clippings of everyone the Malfoys have been associating with recently," she explained. "Including photos of the Malfoys."

"Did you find something?" Harry asked. His tone carried his excitement.

"Maybe. I'm not sure yet. There's a lot going on here. I'll have to fill you in another time."

"Alright. How soon do you need it?"

"Now," she said hopefully.

"How do you want me to get it to you? You don't want him to know about it right?"

"Of course not. He's probably tracing the Floo calls, which means he'll know I called you, and the owls will take too long." She fell silent as she thought.

"Where are you?" Harry asked.

"Miami."

"Alright, give me two hours and then meet me at… hold on…" he jumped away from the Floo and ran to his desk. She heard several desk drawers being slammed and papers shuffled. As he started to approach the fireplace, he spoke, "Ok, grab something to write with."

Hermione disappeared from the flames and quickly grabbed her parchment and quill.  
"Got it," she said as she got back into position.

"It's uh… West Twenty-Seventh Street. Miami Plumbing Supply. It's a big, uh…" he turned the pages around in his hands. "A big empty building, it looks like. I'll get a Portkey setup. Meet you there?"

"Yep, I'll be there. Thanks, Harry," she said.

"No problem, love," he answered.

They closed the connection and Hermione ripped the parchment away from the pad that held it. She took the parchment and the torn card and shoved them both in her purse as she walked out the door.

* * *

She had an hour until her meeting with Harry and she was in her favorite place: a library. To her disappointment, she didn't have time to browse the multitude of shelves. She had one destination in mind.

She found an empty computer and sat down. After twenty minutes and quite a bit of frustration she thought she had what she needed.

Hotel Negresco in Nice, France, and it looked like just the type of place the Malfoys would stay.

She was down to forty minutes to meet Harry. She scribbled the hotel name and address on the back of the torn card and stuck it in her deep satchel before leaving the library.

She took a cab to the address Harry had given her and slipped out of the cab tentatively. It was what he had said, a large abandoned building. Weeds had sprung up from the cracks in the pavement and there wasn't another car in sight.

"You're sure you got the right place, lady?" the cab driver asked.

"Yes, I'm sure. I'm meeting my uh… my... realtor," she lied.

"You want me to wait?"

"Oh, no, I'm fine. Thank you." She paid and began to approach the building.

The large panel door on the side of the building slid open and Harry stuck his head out.

"Harry," she breathed and smiled widely. She reached the door and flung her arms around his neck, hugging him tightly.

They stepped into the darkness of the building and Harry handed her a large manila envelope.

"Thank you _so _much, Harry," she said as she opened the envelope and pulled out a piece of paper with moving pictures on it.

"What have you found, Hermione?" he asked. It was obvious he wanted information and he was going to press her until she gave him something.

She sighed. "I found _this_," she said as she fished the card out of her bag and stuffed the envelope in.

Harry turned it over twice, looking first at the remaining embossed letters and then at the notes Hermione had jotted on the back.

"And?" he asked.

"Well, last night he left early at about eight and didn't come in until three a.m. He wouldn't tell me where he went or what he was doing. He was loud when he came in and woke me up. I went out to see what was going on. He was pretty drunk. And I saw something on his shirt, it was a dark stain. On the right cuff and forearm."

Harry listened intently. "Blood?"

"I don't know. The shirt was blue and the stain was dark so I guess it could have been something else. But he wouldn't let me look at it so that made me suspicious. I went looking for the shirt this morning and found _that _in his pants pocket."

Harry nodded. "I'll send someone to the hotel to do some digging."

"No!" Hermione shouted and snatched the card from Harry's hand. "No, _I'm_ going. That's why I wanted the photos."

"I don't think so, Hermione."

"Harry, I'm not asking. I've been through hell to get this. You aren't taking it from me," she said as she put the card in her purse.

"I'm not comfortable with you going. What if this is their meeting place or something?"

"I'll use glamour charms. They won't even know I'm there. But I _am _going."

"I'll send someone with you then. Just to be safe."

"Harry, it will be more memorable and suspicious for a group of people to be looking for one man. I already have a cover story. It'll be easy. In and out."

Harry sighed and ran a hand through his hair. "I have a bad feeling about this."

Hermione couldn't suppress the laughter that bubbled out of her lips.

* * *

_**AN: Hello again, finally. I apologize for the long delay. Thank you all so much for the reviews and for hanging around and continuing to read. I'm so sorry it has taken so long to update. I'm working on the next chapter already so I'm going to update sooner. I hope you all enjoy this chapter! Thank you so much 3 !**_


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